One more thing ...

Every name or title will fall somewhere on a continuum from descriptive to experiential to evocative.

Descriptive names are functional, almost generic, highlighting the category on offer — e.g., the band The Band. Experiential names capture an associated feeling — e.g., the band Rush — while evocative names have a metaphoric quality, expressing aspiration — e.g., the band Nirvana. Here’s an example in home-prep meal kits: descriptive, Home Chef; experiential, Gobble; evocative, Blue Apron. In automotive: General Motors; Land Rover; Jaguar. In optical: GlassesUSA; Lenscrafters; Warby Parker. In sporting goods: Athletica; Champion; Nike. Oh, and here’s one from TV: Survivor; Naked and Afraid; Live Free or Die. [Naming Continuum is a fun game. Play any time you want, because the source material is infinite.]

Where the name sits on that spectrum is the decider’s call, and there are strong branding reasons in play. Product lifespan is one of them. Another is the competitive set, and the strategic determination to fit-in or stand-out from the pack. The newness of the product category is another. But no matter what the granular objective is, the over-arching, underlying motivator for every name should be consumer-driven, not producer-driven.

Said another way, the name is the beginning of the marketing process, not the end of the development process. There’s often a big difference between what the thing is and what it represents to the consumer. Reality is in development; representation is in marketing.

And maybe that’s hard to wrap your head around. Certainly, you developed the thing and understand it inside and out. You can list all the technical reasons a person will benefit from having the new thing. But the audience isn’t going to be swayed to action by the minutiae. A “development” name doesn’t put your thing in the best light, doesn’t let it shine.

The question to ask is, what is the bigger picture? What does this thing mean to the person who will use it?  Why do they need it? How is it worth their effort to stop doing what they’ve always done and start doing something else entirely? What’s in it for them? From their perspective, not from yours.

Put yourself in their shoes, feel with their heart, think with their mind. Naming is empathy. Naming is connecting to the soul of the other. A name says, I feel you. I’m with you. I’m here. Here to make your life easier. Or better. Or more exciting. Or less chaotic. I understand.

Case study: the sofa. It’s for lounging on, sitting on, sleeping on, working on. It’s a big chair. It’s a big piece of furniture, a big decision. It is a functional object, yes. But it is almost always purchased from an emotional place, connected to a big life event. So no one is moved by the stuffing or the covering, or the number of cushions and if or not they are removable. It’s about why they need a sofa. And it’s not a one-size-fits-all need.

A kid off to college needs something cheap and durable. The first-apartment-on-your-own person needs something that begins to express their own identity, but doesn’t cost and arm and a leg. The move-in-with-your-partner sofa starts to get more serious — a future-facing shared vision, more refined, more expensive. The new-house-in-the-suburbs for your 2.4 kids and a dog. The big-promotion-I’ve-arrived penthouse condo. The weekend getaway in the desert. The cottage at the beach that you’re mostly going to Airbnb. The convert-my-office-to-a-spare-bedroom-for-my-sister’s-kid-who-needs-a-break-from-her-mom sofa. The empty-nest-downsizers that still needs sleeping places for the grandkids. It’s always something.

This line from Fight Club talks about the sofa problem: It’s just, when you buy furniture, you tell yourself, that's it. That's the last sofa I’m gonna need. Whatever else happens, I’ve got that sofa problem handled. As if! Life unfolds however it does, and it needs a new sofa in it. Every sofa defines an era in the life of the purchaser. And the name needs to acknowledge that. It needs to say, I get you. I got you.

And the name for every one of these sofa situations can land anywhere on the continuum. The sturdy, low-cost sofa for the kid off to college: descriptive, Starter Sofa; experiential, All-Nighter; evocative, Autonomy. A divorced partner who didn’t get the co-owned sofa: descriptive, Singular Sofa; experiential, Recharge; evocative, Continuum. Big-promotion person’s sofa: Success Sofa; Groove; Flying Colors. Perfect for the office-to-bedroom conversion: Sofa to Spare; Making Room; Altogetherness. [This is another good game to play. And this one not only helps finetune your naming skills, but also makes you really good at life. Empathy-practice makes the whole world a better place.]

The objective is to express the emotional relationship the consumer has with the thing. A positive reinforcement in solidarity with where they are, supporting what they are feeling. Not the technical spectaculars of it. You know, not: descriptive, Medium-Sized Sofa; experiential, Washable Slipcovers; evocative, Five-Year Warranty.

Important to recognize that a descriptive name shouldn’t be emotionless, an evocative name shouldn’t be meaningless. The name is the opportunity to connect. To meet your consumer where they are and offer them something real. In language they can relate to. Mirroring their inner experience.

Another point is to not water it down. You cannot attract “your people” by signaling that this thing is “just right” for everyone. Because, contrary to the re-programming effort attempted in Fight Club — yes, more Fight Club — everyone actually is special, is a beautiful and unique snowflake. And even if the thing really does suit all needs, the name must still speak expressly to each individual snowflake in the blizzard. It needs to say, It’s is a crazy time for sure, but you got this — descriptive, Sofa Smart; experiential, Rest Easy; evocative, Right Place.

And this isn’t just truth for the big things like sofas and cars. It’s for everything. People take things into their lives, and they want those things to matter. What they eat, what they drive, where they sleep, how they dress — every little thing they do — are all expressions of their individual identities. The names of those things help them create themselves, define themselves, help them feel that their lives matter, that they matter. If the name doesn’t resonate, the opportunity is lost.

And to get to where they are takes guts. You have to let go of your idea of the thing, your ego-investment about what it is. Naming comes from essence not from ego. You, the decider, must be brave. Not afraid, not shy, not stubborn, not rigid. Brave. Fierce. And that doesn’t mean stupid or reckless or quirky or random. It means brutally, fiercely, bravely, critically real. What are you offering? Really, deep down, what does the person get from this thing? Dig hard to find that answer. And name to that.

Because the name is the introduction of your thing to your people. It’s the label, the imprint, the DNA marker. It must be clear and direct and obvious and magical and compelling and authentic and resonant so that your people will know what you’re talking about. And that you’re talking directly to them: Clear as a bell, sharp as a razor, bright as an all-night neon laser. I am the one for you.

 This is the end of the series, but not the end of #PlaysWithWords. Although there isn’t a word-type associated with this post, the mindgame will continue every Wednesday with all the kinds of words already in the mix.

However … there is something else in the works! It’s a little too far off on the horizon just now to really offer any good hints … but you know we’ll be dropping them as soon as we can. Thanks to everyone for playing all these weeks. We can’t wait to be ready to share the next chapter!