A warm smile.

Have you ever worked from a creative brief with the following statement written under Tone? “If humor is explored, the work should evoke more of a smile than a laugh.”

In other words, evoke an “almost laugh”?

Personally, when I explore humor, I respond to things that make me laugh. Out loud. The Hangover. Jim Gaffigan’s musings about bacon. The Betty White muffin skit on SNL.

Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy a good smile as much as the next guy, especially if he happens to be a dentist. But when it comes to humor, either something is funny or it isn’t. Either it makes you laugh or it doesn’t. The word “smile” rarely enters into the humor equation, which is probably why you never see movie reviews like these:

The smile-out-loud event of the year!

You will almost laugh until you almost cry!

Get ready to smile, grin, and chuckle politely!

Suffer from incontinence? You will wet your pants!

We’ve all seen plenty of advertising that evokes warm smiles. I can’t recall any of these ads at the moment, but I’m sure while I was watching them I was smiling my head off or at the very least chuckling politely.

As advertising history proves, laughter is a powerful communications tool. Done right, humor helps brands get noticed, get talked about, and get passed around. Humor also keeps people from leaving the room during commercial breaks to avoid wetting their pants.

So when I read a creative brief that wants to explore humor, I tend to err on the side of laughs. The bigger, the better. I’m not really into warm smiles or making people almost laugh. I guess because I don’t want to spend good money getting my clients' products almost noticed.

Richmond in July.

Don’t get me wrong. I like living in Richmond, Virginia, even when the heat index is 120. I’m sure there are hotter places on the face of the earth than Richmond in July, I just can’t pinpoint any of these places on a weather map at the moment.

Speaking of Richmond in July, on July 1 a new state law goes into effect. The new law says that restaurant patrons with concealed handgun permits may take their pistols into restaurants. Second amendment rights notwithstanding, I’m not sure pistols and pan fried dumplings are a good mix, especially with the state of service in many local restaurants these days.

A two-hour wait for a table? A surly wait staff? Orders mis-delivered, undelivered, or plated cold? Grievously overpriced Foie Gras? Restaurant beepers that never beep? Microscopic portions? The restaurant with the world-famous pecan pie just ran out of pecan pie?

No wonder the Virginia Restaurant Association fought to keep the new handgun law from becoming law. Starting July 1, restaurant owners and operators won’t know which patrons are packing and which ones aren’t. Or will they? Wait, there may be an upside to this new law.

Personally, I don’t own a gun--hand or otherwise. But when I go out to eat in Richmond, what’s to stop me from, say, slipping one of those bulky, 1980’s cell phones into my jacket pocket?

“What’s that you say? I don’t need a beeper? But what about all these other people waiting in line?”

“The best table in the house? Well, okay, if you insist.”

“Three of your best wait staff just for me? Stop, you’re spoiling me.”

“Wow, I’ve never tasted tastier Foie Gras. And at these prices, I can afford to eat here every night!”

Of course there is one small hitch to my finer dining scheme. I’ll just have to make sure that my concealed handgun doesn’t ring in the middle of dessert. Besides being awkward and embarrassing, a person could easily get shot for a stunt like that. Especially when the heat index is 120.

And the winner of the Steve Bassett Award is...

One Show. CA. D&AD. Cannes. The Wunderman. Over the years I guess I’ve won my share of advertising awards. I haven’t won nearly as many awards as have the true giants in the industry. So when I do win something, it is a rare, Halley's-comet-like event.

Recently I was the proud recipient of the first annual Steve Bassett Award. The person who thought up the award is Mike Lear, an extremely thoughtful and talented ACD at The Martin Agency.

Basically, I got the Steve Bassett Award, in Mike’s words, “For upholding Martin’s culture of not only doing great work but also of being good to each other while we’re doing it.”

Winning the Steve Bassett Award is a great honor, and I just want Mike and the rest of the agency to know how much I appreciate it. Of course, it would have been kind of embarrassing if I hadn’t won the Steve Bassett Award. (And there were rumors that I almost came in second.)

I’m not sure how I feel about winning an award for being nice. First of all, I’m not really that nice. Just ask my wife. Second, we all know where nice guys finish. And lastly, there are many, many people in business who are the opposite of nice and who are wildly effective, successful, and even loved. Take for instance one of my personal heroes, Steve Jobs.

Nevertheless, a win is a win. The trophy has my name on it, and it’s going on my resume as well as on my bookshelf at home.

And just think, one day when I’m really old, I can wander over to my bookshelf, fondly pick up my trophy, gently blow off the dust, and say to myself, “The Steve Bassett Award. That's really nice. Who in the hell is Steve Bassett?"

About Face.

Like many people over the age of 15, I was not an early adopter of Facebook. In terms of joining social media I guess you could describe me as fashionably late.

Two years ago I was introduced to Facebook by my wife, Annette, who was introduced to Facebook by our kids. Today, my family is incredibly attuned and proficient with the powers, connectivity, and nuances of Facebook. For example, they actually know how to change their profile pictures. And Annette showed me how to post my blogs on Facebook.

I fully admit that I’m social media challenged. On Facebook, I’m never quite sure with whom I’m connecting. When I post what I had for breakfast, am I telling my family, my closest friends, my entire Friends List, or everybody on the planet? Is President Obama reading my post and thinking to himself, “Hey, I had Go-Lean Crunch with bananas and a protein shake for breakfast too.”

I have 339 friends on Facebook. Compared to other Facebook users, I don’t know if that’s a large number or if basically I’m a social outcast. I strongly suspect the latter. I can tell you this. Every person on my Friends List is fascinating, colorful, and engaging. They always have interesting, fun things to share. I like them a lot. I think I might even know some of them.

I try not to log on to Facebook too often because I’m afraid I might become addicted to it. I’m afraid Facebook will become like my remote control on Sunday afternoon, and I’ll spend hours of trance-induced friend surfing. “Hmm, nothing on Channel Mahoney, wonder what Channel Panozzo is up to? Can you believe it, 339 friends, and nothing’s on!”

Sometimes I actually see my family or friends in person, and I always take the opportunity to catch up. How was your day? What's going on? What’s the latest? What did you have for breakfast? I know this face-to-face interaction is a quaint, outmoded way of connecting with people. From a friend-maintenance standpoint, it can’t hold a candle to the mass efficiencies of social media like Facebook and Twitter.

But on the other hand, when Annette tells me in person how her day was, at least I know that President Obama isn’t somehow linked in and thinking to himself, “Hey, my day sucked too.”

Details at 11.

The other night I was watching TV when a promo came on for the 11 o’clock news.

ANCHOR WOMAN: Are you going to need an umbrella tomorrow? Details at 11.

Once upon a time, information was a bartered commodity. The media owned the information. And if you wanted it, you had to give them something in return. You had to tune in at 11.

But today you can tune in any time you want. Or not. Because you’ve got your iPhone, iPad, or iWhatever’snext. And sadly there is no question that the local news anchor can ask that one of these devices and dozens of others like them can’t answer in a matter of seconds.

What’s a local TV station to do? Well, they’re not stupid. These days, they’re just as digital as any other business. That have websites, they have apps, they’re designing iPad-friendly formats even as we speak. To take an umbrella or not to take an umbrella? They're answering their own questions 24/7.

But here’s the inconvenient truth. They still need viewers to tune in at 11, preferably viewers under the age of 83. Otherwise all those local car dealers, law firms, and furniture stores will pull their advertising.

So here’s my idea for improving local news promos and attracting viewership. Instead of asking questions in their station promos, they should give answers.

ANCHOR WOMAN: 80% chance, Freddy Krueger, 24-17, Shingles, voted down, closed up, because you eat too damn much, 27 killed, a cow in a tree, yes, definitely yes, Dubai, still missing, two-and-a-half stars, raw patties, $2.88 a gallon, a pretty sunset, a cute puppy, edible underwear, awkward banter, Britney, Lindsay, Avatar. Details at 11.

You still might not tune in. But then again….

What I've learned. Part five.

Be yourself, everybody else is already taken care of.--Oscar Wilde

This is the last of a five-part series of what I’ve learned from five of the best writers in advertising. I imagine that most of you didn’t know that before Oscar Wilde became a famous nineteenth-century poet and playwright, he worked as a junior copywriter on Dr. Sheffield’s Crème Dentifrice. The reason you didn’t know this little-known fact is because it’s not true. Oscar Wilde never worked in advertising. But his quote above is probably the best advice I could give any beginning writer or art director. Be yourself. There are thousands of moments in your life that have formed who are—that have formed what you believe, what you think is important, what makes you laugh, what makes you mad, what makes you unique. (Yes, Mr. Rogers was right. Each of us is special in his or her own way.) And when you consciously or subconsciously draw upon the thousands of things that make up who you are, incredible, unforeseen connections take place, ideas that never would have happened if you weren’t in the room trying to concept the next, great financial services ad. I once interviewed a copywriter who referred to one of the pieces in his book as, “And here’s my long-copy Neil French ad.” Obviously the only person who can truly write like Neil French is, well, Neil French. And as I read the young writer’s long-copy ad, by his third or fourth run-on sentence, the fact that he was no Neil French became painfully evident. So, to sum up, don’t worry about everybody else. As Mr. Wilde said, they’re already taken care of. Be yourself. Draw upon your passions and beliefs. Use the things that excite and motivate you. In the end you’ll do more interesting, more powerful, more honest work. Who knows, one day some young creative may refer to one of the pieces in his or her book as, “And here’s my (insert your name here) ad.”

What I've learned. Part four.

This is part four of a series about what I’ve learned from five of the best writers in advertising.

The art of the story. -–Mike Hughes, The Martin Agency

Now that Mike Hughes is technically no longer my boss I feel that I can finally say something nice about him. And just one of the many things I admire about Mike is that he is a real writer. Thirty years before Mike joined The Martin Agency, he was a newspaper reporter, a really good newspaper reporter. He dug into stories. He interviewed people. He checked and rechecked his sources and facts. He looked at the story from every angle. He thought about what the story might mean not only to the people living it, but also to the people reading it. Then he thought about the best way to tell the story. Is the lead powerful and clear? Are the characters in the story flesh and blood or merely demographics? Is the story easy to follow and understand? Is the story told as efficiently as possible—without fluff, without hyperbole, without one unnecessary paragraph, sentence or word? Mike has done a lot of writing as both a copywriter and a creative director at The Martin Agency. Sometimes he writes ads. Sometimes he writes brand manifestos. Sometimes he writes white papers. Sometimes he writes strategies. Sometimes he writes speeches. Sometimes he writes emails. Sometimes he writes about the future of advertising and of our agency. But here’s the thing. Each thing Mike writes is like a well-written story. It’s human. It’s honest. It’s engaging. It's challenging. It’s thought provoking. Lately in ad schools, the idea of telling “brand stories” has become rather fashionable. They even teach classes in it. And truthfully, thinking of brands as stories with unique histories, characters, beliefs, conflicts, goals, and emotional connections is a valuable, 360-degree way to look at any brand. But just know that "the art of the story" is nothing new to Mike Hughes.