Lessons From an Analog Puppet
You can literally watch an imagination spark. A nervous grade school girl shyly glancing back and forth from the studio floor to the fluffy blue, black, and white striped caterpillar-looking character being manipulated by a seemingly invisible performer. She lets out a nervous giggle in response to a question from the worm with glittering blue eyes. The impossibly long puppet echoes her laugh with one of its own. The girl laughs again, a little more relaxed. The puppet repeats. The girl’s laugh erupts into actual glee. Both rebound peals of laughter for another thirty seconds. For both of them, the TV studio, the dozen or so adults standing around, the grid of stage lighting — disappear and there is only the two of them laughing together. It is pure magic. How we got to the point of witnessing it wasn’t.
The original task was pretty straightforward and not at all outside of my comfort zone: Produce a series of thirty-second spots on behalf of my employer to promote the importance of reading for a pre-kindergarten audience on a local PBS channel. Throughout my career, I’ve actively pursued opportunities to create marketing that is kid-centric. This is due largely to the fact that it is usually one of the more fun ways to flex my illustration skills and produce art that isn’t blatantly trying to sell something. There’s usually an element of fun or whimsy attached. So, my immediate instinct with this assignment was to turn to my years of illustration and motion graphics and come up with an animated solution. Namely, one that would be character-centric. Which again, was an all-too-familiar territory for me.
But it didn’t feel right. My instinct was ready to charge, but something else in my brain wouldn’t connect the circuit. So, I circled around the core intent of the task and it clicked. Who did I think I was? I was going to produce an animated commercial around a cartoon character kids had never seen before and expect it to A. resonate with them, and B. compete with a slew of other cartoons produced by entire teams made up of dozens of people as talented or more talented than I was? The landscape of cartoon brand mascots has evolved dramatically in the last thirty years. Once upon a time, an ad agency could produce an animated mascot to push juice, some cereal, maybe cigarettes, and it would work. Kids would become attached to a mascot character with a catchy tagline while they watched Saturday morning cartoons. Now, every product producer on the planet wants a piece of what’s hot. Who needs Count Chocula when you can get Darth Vader to be your pitchman?
So, when you’re trying to encourage kids to read, what works? Only one group of people I could think of would know the answer: Teachers.
Fortunately, the vast majority of my social network is made up of public school teachers, so I went into due diligence mode and started interviewing as many as I could get ahold of. The clock was ticking and I needed to produce something inside of a month. When I asked what I should be thinking about when addressing the subject of getting kids interested in reading and what techniques they used in the classroom, I repeatedly heard from virtually every single teacher or reading specialist I spoke to the same thing. They all, at some point or another, especially with younger children who were struggling, used puppets.
I had no interest in puppetry. I was not a puppeteer. Despite my reluctance to this overwhelming feedback, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I would go to bed thinking about the profound impact shows like Mr. Rogers Neighborhood, Sesame Street, and The Muppet Show had had on me growing up. A few days into this discovery, I went to my boss and found myself standing in front of his desk saying, “ So . . . What would you say if I told you we should budget for a puppet?”
It is at this point that I need to clarify that I am the in-house marketing talent for a credit union. Credit unions don’t do a lot of investing in things like puppets.
It is at this point that I need to clarify that I am the in-house marketing talent for a credit union. Credit unions don’t do a lot of investing in things like puppets. Some don’t even invest in marketing. Fortunately, my employer is atypical. We are mission-driven, and our mission is education-centric. This was the reason I left a lucrative consulting gig, extracting ungodly fees from government agencies to work for them. My employer actually has a soul and the work we do benefits real, tangible lives. Despite that, I was still taking a risk requesting a budget for a puppet without a plan for who would be behind it.
Fortunately, despite being in the financial industry, I work for a boss who isn’t risk-averse. After producing some sketches for character design and walking through how the puppet would interact with local children on camera, he was game. With the green light, I furiously started the unprecedented process of finding people who build professional, high-quality puppets while simultaneously searching for people in our community who might have puppeteering experience. We’re in Idaho, so naturally, I felt like the odds were against me.
Boise has grown a lot in the last twenty years and along with it, the cultural neediness to catch up with hip cities in the surrounding west like Austin, Portland, and of course Seattle. Out of this keeping up with the tight-jeaned, groomed-beard Joneses has emerged a fledgling culture scene that has slowly expanded year-after-year. A simple, why-the-heck-not-try, search on Facebook for puppets in the Boise area led me straight to a solution to both my problems.
The young couple had been reluctant to meet with us, and their reservation showed in our first meeting. We were Suits. What did we want from a couple of underground scene performers who had established a reputation for gory puppet shows around Halloween that usually incorporated acts of puppet cannibalism, decapitations, and featured red streamers of “blood”? Their talent. That’s what. The second time we met I knew I’d made the right choice when one of the performers/puppet makers came up with our character’s name, which we had been struggling with. The character design I had come up with was centered on the idea of a literal bookworm — an idea that a classic hand puppet design could be incorporated into. A lot of our name ideas were the usual puns off our brand and we were getting nowhere. Then Chad, a tiny TV-land person with a mischievous face said, “What about Ed Word? You know, first name ‘Ed’, second name ‘Word’?” I didn’t know whether to hug him or scream with frustration. It was brilliant. Ed Word the Bookworm™. Our unlikely solution had a name.
Ed Word exists and has been successful because I took the time to listen to what people who know more than I do have to say about what might be a solution.
Ed Word the Bookworm™ has been on our local PBS station, at schools promoting our reading contest, and showing up at various local venues for a little over two years now. When he does appear in public, there’s always at least a few children who already know who he is and know him by name. Take that, Spiderman. People are surprised when I share that of all the work I’ve done in my career so far, bringing Ed Word into the world has been one of the most satisfying and rewarding projects. But the biggest takeaway for me was that in reality, there’s not much I can truly take credit for. Ed Word exists and has been successful because I took the time to listen to what people who know more than I do have to say about what might be a solution. Ed Word has an amazing persona and name because I let somebody else flex their creativity and run with my initial idea without letting my ego get in the way.
Watch this video. Really focus on the little girl talking with Ed Word. You can see how lost she is in the moment. You can hear the fun in her voice and it is wonderful to see that she is literally reading, word-for-word, one of her favorite books to him, sharing what she enjoys with a character she believes in. If that isn’t something to be proud of, then I really don’t know what is.
