The Brief on Briefs
If you’ve spent any time in marketing or advertising, you’ve probably noticed the common refrain: “Creative briefs are dead,” or “Briefs are bad.” Yet, when the time comes to launch a campaign, what’s the first thing everyone asks for? That’s right—where is the brief?
There’s a paradox here. We rely on briefs to guide our plans, strategies, and creativity, align teams, and articulate the vision to clients—technically, the reason they chose us to solve a problem. But at the same time, we love to hate them. Why? Because briefs are hard. Really hard. They’re difficult to write, challenging to get right, and almost impossible to satisfy everyone involved. This challenge often stems from the semantic difference between ignorance and being ignorant. Ignorance is a lack of information driving a discussion, while being ignorant is the refusal to accept facts even after knowing them. And that’s the catch: even after doing your due diligence in crafting a brief, you must be ready to be wrong to a lot of people.
Here’s the truth: even after you’ve done all your homework—the research, the data crunching, the brainstorming, and even a few rounds with AI tools like ChatGPT—you’re still likely to hear that your brief is lacking. It’s not that the information isn’t there; it’s just that the lack of involvement and dialogue means the format, tone, or something intangible doesn’t quite land. Perhaps it’s the “proper format” handed down by a previous team that’s just not inspiring because it wasn’t discussed beforehand, or maybe your creative director wanted something different, something more… “interesting.”
What often happens next is a dance between the planner-strategist and the creative team. The strategist, armed with a well-researched brief, tries to impress the creative, who sits stoic, unimpressed, and maybe even a little defensive. This standoff is almost inevitable, and it’s where the brief starts to fall apart.
But here’s the thing: briefs aren’t supposed to be perfect. They’re not a final say—they’re a starting point. The problem arises when we try to fit everything onto one page, reducing complex ideas into overly simplistic formats that don’t do justice to the work at hand. With the explosion of channels, data, and ever-evolving consumer behavior, a one-page brief often falls short. Conversely, exaggerated ideas stretched into 60 pages of tactics, data, hypotheses, frameworks, and academic applications often end up gathering dust because the audience’s response won’t justify the original plan’s effort.
So, what’s the alternative?
Don’t write a brief—write a contract. Think of it as an evolving agreement between planners and creatives, a codification of conversations, disagreements, and collective hunches. It’s not about dictating what to do but about setting the stage for collaborative action.
Yes, the actions will change. They should change. And yes, you might still be wrong. But by turning the brief into a living document—a contract of sorts—you create a space for ongoing dialogue, flexibility, and the freedom to adjust as the project evolves.
In the end, a good brief isn’t about being right; it’s about starting the conversation and being ready to be wrong together to maximize success.
