The Long and Short of Name Development

by Mark Prus of NameFlashSM

Some of my name development clients are fans of long, keyword-rich names. Obviously the appeal of a search engine spotting your website is driving this approach.

Some of my naming clients are fans of short names that can be easily shared on Twitter.

Which approach is better?

I will confess I am a fan of short, memorable names. Steve Baird would agree. As Steve so eloquently puts it, “we live in a sound bite world.”

But I strongly believe that picking a name because it would be more attractive to search engines or because it is short enough to Tweet is a huge mistake. Any time you allow tactics to drive your strategy, you are heading down the road to ruin.

A far better approach is to hone your brand’s strategy and test it with consumers until you find the positioning that is going to make all the difference in your business, then develop a name. David Ogilvy once said "The results of your campaign depend less on how we write your advertising than on how your product is positioned." The same is true for your name. Spend time developing a positioning that rings the bell with consumers and then go find the perfect name that brings that positioning to life.

Sound like a difficult thing to do? Not really. I know I am biased by my 25+ years of experience in building great consumer brands, but this task is not difficult. Time consuming? Yes. At times painful? Yes. Expensive? Could be. But in the end, the process of honing the brand positioning and using that as a basis for name development will pay dividends for years to come.

If the name you choose ends up short enough to Twitter, then you may wish to include that tactic in your arsenal. If your name includes relevant keywords, so much the better! But please, don’t pick names because they work better with tactic A or Tactic B!

Your thoughts?

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Name That (Zombie) Brand

Losing a trademark challenge is bad news, right? It’s costly, it’s embarrassing, and it can damage a brand’s reputation.

And yet in one well-known instance, losing a trademark challenge didn’t hurt a brand at all. In fact, it ensured the brand’s immortality.

The product name I’m thinking of existed for just three years in the 1990s before the death-dealing trademark challenge. The company name survived in slightly altered form; the product name was replaced by a series of successor names.

Now, more than eleven years after that legal defeat, the original product name is still used, erroneously but ubiquitously, to describe an entire class of products—products that themselves exist mostly as fading memories.

What's the product name?

I'll give you one more hint: it's a technology brand.

Answer after the jump.

The product name is PalmPilot, the first-generation personal digital assistant (PDA) introduced in 1996 by Palm Computing, then a division of U.S. Robotics. The Palm trademark was challenged by pen manufacturer Pilot, which had used "Pilot" as a brand name for its products since 1918. Palm lost, and since 1998 no Palm product has borne the Pilot name. 

In fact, Palm no longer makes PDAs at all. Instead, it makes smartphones or app phones (Treo, Centro, Pixi), which have subsumed the old PDA category and added innumerable extra functions.

And yet...

"PalmPilot"—sometimes rendered as Palm pilot or palm pilot—refuses to die. Here are a few examples from 2009 alone:

[A]s Professor Tushnet of Georgetown Law School has documented for her trademark law class, a 2004 Palm pilot [sic] ad campaign included the catchy slogan: “go places, google things.”

—"The Power of the Brand As Verb," New York Times, July 19, 2009. (There was no PalmPilot in 2004.)

"I've been reading ebooks on my Palm Pilot for 5 years."  "I've been reading ebooks for years, first on a Palm Pilot and now on an iPhone."

—Comments #11 and #13, "Cellphone Apps Challenge the Rise of E-Readers," New York Times, November 18, 2009. (The PalmPilot was never capable of being an e-book reader, and the brand hasn't existed during the last five years.)

Someone apparently removed a screen to a ground-level window and took two Palm Pilot PDAs, valued at $400 each.

—"The Grinch Who Stole the Snow Blower," in The Local, the New York Times's New Jersey blog, December 22, 2009. (Even as antiques, PalmPilots probably wouldn't be valued at $400.)

I don't mean to pick on the Times exclusively. Here's a recent example from the New Yorker:

Next to the chimney, on top of the stove, is a piece of black duct tape with a small silver disk beneath it. Plug the disk into a Palm Pilot, and it will tell you exactly when and for how long that stove was used in the previous month.

—"Annals of Invention: Hearth Surgery," by Burkhard Bilger, December 21/28, 2009. Full text available only to subscribers; abstract is here. Citation is on page 91 of the print edition.

And how about this, from the Cape Cod Times:

In an era when Internet access is available in the palm pilot of your hand, it's hard to believe that some Massachusetts residents still struggle for a Web connection.

—"State-federal link boosts Web access," December 27, 2009. And just a couple of weeks ago, when former vice presidential candidate Sarah Palin was photographed in Nashville referring to notes scribbled on her hand, several commentators joked about the "Palin Palm Pilot." (The Times of London called it "the Hillbilly Palm Pilot.")

I think that's enough evidence to make my point. PalmPilots: dead. PDAs: dead. And yet PalmPilot/Palm Pilot/palm pilot lives on!

It's as though all video games were today generically known as Pong. Or as though you called your iPod your Walkman. 

What accounts for this persistence of memory? Your guess is probably as good as mine. Yes, the double-P alliteration is catchy, but no catchier than some other less-successful brand names. PalmPilot was one of the earliest PDAs to be offered, but it wasn’t the first. Maybe the familiar associations of both “palm” and “pilot” helped make the PalmPilot’s breakthrough technology more approachable and thus memorable.

Or maybe it was a pair of New Yorker cartoons—both of them published in 2000, after the brand was officially dead and buried—that guaranteed the PalmPilot’s robust afterlife. One depicted an actual airline pilot (“This is so cool! I’m flying this thing completely on my Palm pilot!”—note lower-case “pilot”). The other showed a hooker leaning into a prospective client’s car window and offering, “For an extra fifty bucks, I’ll let you show me your Palm Pilot.”

Can you think of another brand with such a short life and such a long-ago death that survives in everyday parlance? I can't.

 —Nancy Friedman, Chief Wordworker at Wordworking

Naming the Store Brand

         

Every Sunday I go through the circulars in the paper looking for new products. I usually spend a lot of time with the ads from the national drug store chains (Walgreens, CVS, and Rite Aid). Recently, I observed that each chain seems to have a radically different philosophy on store brand naming. And while this observation isn’t earth shattering, it exposes the marketing strategies (or lack thereof) of each chain.

For example, check out the allergy section. The big brand names like Benadryl®, Claritin® and Zyrtec® all have store brand/private label competition. Walgreens naming protocol for its store brand is pretty straightforward and seems to be designed to help a consumer find the Walgreens knockoff of the branded product. You can buy Wal-dryl, Wal-itin, and Wal-zyr, and the packaging is color coded to make it easier.  This is a very consistent strategy that is designed to make life easier for the consumer and also designed to build the “Wal-“ prefix as a brand.

          Non-Drowsy 24 Hour Allergy,Tablets          

                    

At CVS, you have to be a well-informed consumer or a doctor to get it right because CVS attempts to align symptoms with branding. For example, the CVS version of Benadryl is called Allergy, while the CVS version of Claritin is called Non-Drowsy Allergy Relief (non-drowsy being a key benefit of the active ingredient in Claritin), and the Zyrtec knockoff product is called Indoor/Outdoor Allergy Relief (Zyrtec is the only brand with indoor/outdoor allergy claims).

                                     

At Rite Aid, you almost have to be a pharmacist to get the right brand. The first branded product to go generic was Benadryl and Rite Aid called the knockoff Rite Aid Allergy Medication. When the next generation allergy drugs went generic, Rite Aid had to improvise and so now you need to know the active ingredient to get the right brand (Rite Aid Loratidine and Rite Aid Cetirizine for Claritin and Zyrtec respectively). 

How about gastrointestinal products? Looking at four big brands, Zantac®, Metamucil®, Pepto-Bismol®, and MiraLAX®, and their knockoff brands at the drug chains show inconsistency at all three chains:

Branded: Zantac; Metamucil; Pepto-Bismol; MiraLAX

Walgreens: Wal-Zan; Wal-Mucil; Soothe; SmoothLAX

CVS: Acid Reducer; Natural Fiber Laxative; Stomach Relief; PureLAX

Rite Aid: Acid Reducer; Natural Fiber; Pink Bismuth; Laxative

So what is going on here? Walgreens, which appeared to be building the “Wal-“ prefix as its store brand champion, seems to have abandoned that philosophy in some parts of the store. CVS, which had been focusing on product benefits, gets dragged down into generic category descriptors in gastrointestinals. And Rite Aid is all over the place.

Doesn’t anyone worry about having a consistent branding strategy for the store brand? It sure would make life easier for us confused consumers! Hey Walgreens, CVS and Rite Aid…do you need some naming help?

- Mark Prus, NameFlashSM

Describe Different

"What am I?"

Every invention begs this essential question of identity.

The answer is found in the product's descriptor. A descriptor defines a thing, categorizing it, framing it, positioning it and signaling its intended future.

A product that doesn't claim to break new ground adopts its category's standard convention. For example, a new, run-of-the-mill digital camera would be marketed as a "digital camera".

A revolutionary product, on the other hand, deserves an innovative product descriptor. And, sometimes, a me-too product benefits from one, too.

The trouble is, innovation is easier done than said.

I wrote in this article about the "brander's paradox": Human instincts make us wary of unfamiliar and different things, yet differentiation is essential to a product's success.

By definition, an innovation is unfamiliar. How can its product descriptor differentiate without triggering people's fear of the unknown?

The New York Times gives us an idea in this recent article about product descriptors,

"When people encounter something they don't recognize, they make sense of it by associating it with something familiar."

The most effective new descriptors combine familiar terms in unfamiliar ways. They make product function or form clearly understood, even upon first exposure. Novel descriptors insufficiently informative should at the very least pique interest.

Descriptors that differ

The products shown below the jump illustrate different approaches:

Starbucks VIA ready brew

It's a me-too product but you can't tell from its descriptor. This is really instant coffee, a product designator unbecoming Starbucks. "Ready brew" emphasizes the chief benefit of saving time by using current, casual vernacular.

Dreyer's Slow Churned ice cream

Food scientists have a name for everything, but that name isn't always appetizing. The dessert wizards at Dreyer's, for example, had perfected a new way to blend low-fat ice cream so it acquires the texture and richness of full-fat ice cream. In precise but dry science lingo, they called the process "low-temperature extrusion". Doesn't exactly make the mouth water, does it?

Dreyer's isn't dumb. They knew "extrusion" had no place on a quart of mint chip. They needed a term that had immediate appetite appeal. The words of their final, market-facing descriptor, "Slow Churned", taps into the semiotics of yesteryear, when food was simpler, unprocessed, and naturally indulgent. "Churned" evokes hand-mixed barrels of butter, hinting at the product's creamy richness. "Slow" connotes food that's unprocessed and handcrafted.

On the heels of Slow Churned ice cream's astounding success, Breyer's flattered Dreyer's with their imitative descriptor, Double Churned ice cream.

Disclaimer: I led the naming of Dreyer's Slow Churned ice cream as Global Director of Naming and Writing at Landor Associates.

Bing decision engine

Can't fault Microsoft for trying. Bing is a search engine, pure and simple. Although "decision engine" will never become part of the vernacular, it does suggest how Bing is different: Giving relevant information to help make a informed decision, instead of overwhelming with googlebytes of information.


Noah's Stuffed Saladwich

Coined words are hard to get right. This inventive, efficient descriptor gets mixed results. At a glance, "saladwich" looks like a real word because it begins and ends with the same letters as "sandwich" (a phenomenon cheekily called, "typoglycemia"). But "Saladwich" sounds clunky because "-wich" is not a productive suffix and doesn't normally combine with other words (unlike the "-tini" of "martini" that gives us "chocotini" and "apple-tini"). "Saladwich" will sound less contrived as it becomes more familiar.

Blackberry wireless email solution

Technology products that blend hardware, software and services are tough to describe. More often than not, catch-all words like "solution" or "system" are employed. Though vague, these words avoid long descriptors that specify all key product dimensions. "Wireless email solution" is a lot shorter than "phone, PDA, email, internet, software and services." To its credit (and my alma mater's, Lexicon), the differentiation in Blackberry is borne primarily by the Blackberry name itself, not its ho-hum descriptor.


Segway personal transporter

This NYT article discusses the difficulty of categorizing the Segway, a product that's really unlike anything else. Although the article touches on the brand name, it doesn't mention Segway's official descriptor. "Personal transporter" suggests who the product is for and what it does at a basic level, but it doesn't capture how revolutionary the product is, what it looks like or even whether it's motorized.

But a descriptor can't do everything. Like most products visibly inventive, a photo of the Segway speaks volumes. And messaging, mostly communicated through PR, does the heavy lifting of describing Segway technology and its applications.

Describing technology convergence

Each of the products above fit, more or less, into one functional category. But in electronic devices, disparate functions inevitably converge. Over time, we've seen phones integrate video cameras, music players evolve into movie players, and televisions that browse the Web.

Technology convergence presents a naming quandary: How do you categorize a product that merges others?

There are five approaches a marketer can take when describing one device that does the work of many:

  • List all of the converged technologies (e.g. "all-in-one printer, fax, scanner") Long but accurate, clear and communicative. Needs to change as new functions are added. Generic and not protectable.
  • Cite one function only (e.g. "mobile phone" [the built-in camera is not referenced in the descriptor]) Short; relies on copy and imagery to tout other functions. Doesn't suggest "new". Generic, not protectable.
  • Use one of the technology descriptors as the focus but modify it (e.g. "smartphone") Short; borrows from the familiar to aid understanding. These descriptors can take a long time to be adopted by industry and customers. It helps if the modifier is already understood from other categories and retains that meaning. May or may not be protectable.
  • Come up with something totally new (e.g. "media center") In naming, unfamiliarity is friction. Descriptors like these resist widespread adoption. They typically require a lot of time and money to gain traction. May or may not be protectable.
  • Use no descriptor at all (e.g. "iPod") This is a risky approach and is only viable when the device marketer has (1) control over all communications, distribution and sales and (2) a lot of money.

Apple has conspicuously avoided using a product descriptor per se for iPod. It turns out, they didn't need one. No distributors or resellers could tinker with Apple's disciplined and exacting messaging. At launch, the ad headline, "1000 songs in your pocket" made it clear the iPod was a portable music player.

Today, the iPod has grown in function and familiarity. So confident is Apple, they answer "What is iPod touch?" with "A great iPod. A great pocket computer. A great portable game player." When you can recursively describe your product and people get it, you've transcended product descriptors and become a category unto yourself.

The iPod answers "What am I?" with the most basic statement of identity, "I am me".

I guess if you're iPod, that's all you need to know.

Anthony Shore, Operative Words

Take the innovation descriptor challenge!

Innovations are easier done than said. See if you can come up with better product descriptors than these:

  • Segway personal transporter
  • Blackberry wireless email solution
  • The Internet global network
  • Onstar in-vehicle safety and security system
  • Wii console

Post your best ideas in the comments section.

Supreme Court Asked to Review Washington Redskins Trademark Case

Back in May, I wrote a piece entitled "Re-Branding Madness in Washington" Overlooks Obvious: The Washington Redskins," discussing the trademark cancellation action that I filed on behalf of seven prominent Native American leaders back in September 1992 (Harjo et al v. Pro-Football, Inc.), and calling for the football team to "hire a branding guru to engage in some serious and successful re-branding."

Well, the 2009 football season is now upon us, and it appears my re-branding call has fallen on deaf ears, at least for now.

Yesterday the Washington Post "reported" the case may be heard by the U.S. Supreme Court.

What I found most interesting about the brief 197 word story in the Washington Post is that the "reporter" used the word "activist" three times and "group" twice, to describe the distinguished Native American leaders I know, without referring to them as individuals or even as being Native American (without the "activist" pejorative), leading me to wonder what yard-line his seats might be located at in FedEx Field.

For what it's worth, at least the Associated Press, ABC News, NBC Sports, ESPN, Yahoo News, WTOP.com, WUSA9.com, New York TimesNew York Post, Miami Herald, San Francisco Chronicle, Seattle Times, Sports Illustrated, The Washington Times, and CBS News, have all managed to report the story without employing the highly-charged and politically-loaded term "activist," instead neutrally referring to the petitioners as "Native Americans" and "American Indians," who are offended by the team name.

Re-Branding and Pink Elephants: Doesn't "Drury Inn" Need a Name Change?

 

                  (Source: St. Louis Hotels Today)

Trying my consumer's hat on for size this Labor Day, I'll ask the question: Would you pay good money and choose to stay a night or two in the hotel pictured above, without having a personal recommendation from a very, very good friend? 

Me neither, says my wife, for our family.

Did the name have anything to do with your decision? In other words, might you be leery of weary desk clerks, eerie hallways, and dreary rooms, at the Drury Inn?

We were. Sorry, Drury Inn.

But, with far more cheery sounding and well-known national hotel brands readily available like Courtyard, Crown Plaza, Hilton, Hyatt Regency, Westin, Sheraton, Hampton Inn, Residence Inn, and Holiday Inn (or, should I say, H?), do you really blame us for our uninformed theory?

Remember my family road trip this past summer that revealed a trend toward single letter chewing gum brands and a discussion of non-verbal logos that can stand alone? Well, on that same trip, driving through the heartland, along the various interstates we traveled, we noticed Drury Inn after Drury Inn, a hotel chain we had never encountered before. We stayed a few nights in downtown St. Louis, near the above-pictured Drury Inn, but we never had the interest or courage to take a closer look.

Actually my wife felt even more strongly about it than I did, she thought that the various Drury Inns we saw (from the outside) looked and sounded, well, quite dreary. Apparently we aren't the first to make the "dreary" word association with Drury Inn, especially among those who have expressed  online their rather negative experiences in spending nights and money (on the inside of one) (here, here, here, herehere, and here). One could say that deciding to use a name so easily a target for a hotel chain starts to make the resulting wounds look self-inflicted.

Sorry again, Drury Inn.

Recognizing the practice of many popular national hotel brands to select and adopt brand names that evoke feelings of comfort and pleasure (Courtyard, Holiday Inn, Days Inn, Sleep Inn, and Comfort Inn), I was left rather intrigued with the peculiar naming decision involving Drury Inn, at least enough to take a closer look online. Armed with a Wikipedia reference along with the hotel chain's website, I was surprised to learn, having never head of the brand before, that it has been around since 1973, it has 130 locations in twenty states, and it has won some awards too.

Now, while Mr. Drury, and other family members, might defend use of the family name based on the recognized success and longevity of their business, someone less emotionally attached to the surname might ask where the business would be with a better brand name for a hotel chain.

Perhaps this is a good time for Brand Introspection with Uncle Buck: As David Cameron's On Brands Blog teaches: "You need to know what your brand does well. You need to know where your brand disappoints. And to truly know those things, you need to take an honest look at your brand – how you see it and, of utmost importance, how others see it."

It is my understanding that re-branding and name changes are made "usually in an attempt to distance [the brand] from certain negative connotations of the previous branding." As you may recall, I previously have called for name changes and rebranding when a name (Redskins) or symbol (Chief Wahoo) offends, and that is certainly not the case with the Drury Inn brand name, but it seems to me, when a name actually detracts from the positive attributes of an underlying brand, isn't a name change or rebrand in order?

After all, doesn't any hotel chain need to pass the "'Where did you stay? Oh, we stayed at a Drury Inn . . . Oh, I'm so sorry, what was the name of the hotel? so we can avoid it on our next trip'" test?

Now, for Drury family members who might be leery of a name change, marketing expert Seth Godin notes, going all the way back to square one is underrated and "nicer than people expect." But, if you're still not convinced that Drury Inn should go back to square one with its name, what about a new tagline, as a compromise?

Drury Inn's current tagline apparently is: "The Extras Aren't Extra." Nice enough, but it ignores the pink elephant in the hotel room. The name too easily associates with a word that is a far distance from inviting or comforting, attributes of importance to those willing to spend money and a night away from home. Interestingly, some of the hotel chain's consumer champions appear to have spotted the pink elephant in the hotel room and are using it to the brand's advantage:

"Drury not dreary, but for the wayward and weary."

"This Drury Definately Not Dreary"

"Far from being the Dreary Inn."

Hoover's coverage even plays on the name: "Drury isn't dreary, but it is for the weary."

Here's my "consumer hat" suggestion for a new tagline: "Drury Inn, Everything But Dreary."

What is your recommendation?

The Title of Your Story

What’s the first thing you think about when you’re naming a company or a product? Securing a domain? Avoiding trademark conflict? Sounding different from your competitors?

All are important concerns. But I contend that the first thing you should think about is this:

A name is the title of your story.

Yes, you’re naming your company or your product. But what you’re really doing is putting a title on the story you’re telling investors, shareholders, customers, and employees.

If you’re smart and lucky, the name you choose will be the title of a great story. A best-seller. A legend. A tale told around the campfire for generations.

If you’re haphazard or confused or pretentious or timid, your name will end up on the equivalent of the remainders table at your local bookstore: piles of copies at 70 percent off.

You can have a great story that nobody wants to read because the title is pedestrian or perplexing or pompous.

Or you can create demand for your story by giving it a title that tells just enough without giving away the plot.

So before you do any internal namestorming or hire a name developer, spend some time thinking about the story your company or product needs to tell.

Thinking about “story” requires a shift away from what you focus on day to day. Your elevator pitch and your PowerPoint presentation may tell your investors and shareholders and customers about your product’s new features or your market niche or your global strategy. They are not your story. They are bits of information.

Here's what Annette Simmons, author of The Story Factor, says about this:

"People don't want more information. They are up to their eyeballs in information. They want faith—faith in you, your goals, your success, in the story you tell. ... Once people make your story their story, you have tapped into the powerful force of faith."

And here's what the great Russian writer Anton Chekhov said:

"Don't tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass."

How do you find your story? By stripping away everything that isn’t story: your products, your process, your team of super-smart engineers. And by focusing instead on your master narrative.

Story is bigger than “who we are.” As the title of a story, Amazon doesn’t say “online seller of books, music, and everything else we can get our hands on.” On the top level of the story, it says “big, deep, and powerful.” On a less conscious level it says “amazing” (a close cognate), it says “on” (the final syllable), and it says “A to Z” (incorporated into the spelling). It even says “am” (first syllable), as in “I the customer am involved with this enterprise.”

Story is bigger that “what we do.” As the title of a story, Viagra doesn’t say “effective treatment for erectile disfunction.” It doesn’t say “sildenafil citranate.” It says “via—the way to get there”; it says “virile,” “vital,” “vitamin,” and “viva!”; it says “grow” (so close to “-gra”); it says “Niagara—ceaseless power”; it says “Agra—site of the Taj Mahal, that monument to love.” And it says “women will love it, too”—note the feminine “-a” ending.

Do you read all of those meanings into these names the first time you hear or read them—or even the twelfth? Of course you don’t. But because the meanings are so positive, their power accretes each time you hear the name or roll it around in your mouth. “Yes,” you think without quite knowing why. “I want some more of that.”

Can a strong name take the place of sound technology and a business plan and a smart management team and solid financing? Of course it can’t. But without a compelling story, you won’t engage your audience. And your name—the title of your story—is your first chance to do it.

Nancy Friedman, Chief Wordworker at Wordworking