The Power of a Single Word

I've never lifted weights in my life, yet for the past three years, I've been moving my body more than I ever imagined. It all started when I joined a certain tennis club. Since then, I've been chasing balls an average of three times a week—through sweltering summers and freezing cold winter nights.

My skills are abysmal, so I get advice from others. The problem is when they give me five or six corrections at once. "When you pull the racket back, position your shoulder like this," "At that moment, close your hips," "Don't tense your wrist at the start of the swing..." By the time I remember all that, the ball has already sailed past my side.

Conversely, I'm truly impressed by those who can distill their advice into a single, simple point. Something like, "Create a wall with your left hand. Everything else doesn't matter." That kind of singular focus is something even someone with my poor coordination can try to achieve.

Thanks to this, I've lost a bit of weight and am enjoying my days.

Now then.

In the product development process, I work alongside professionals—craftsmen, if you will—who possess industry-specific skills: designers for fashion, researchers for pharmaceuticals, and development teams responsible for flavor creation for processed foods.

The other day, someone asked me, "Mr. Yamada, how do you talk to people from all these different industries?" Hmm. I just have normal conversations, but if I had to say, I place great importance on "one word."

Nearly 20 years ago, while assisting with product development at a food company, I was rigorously trained in this skill: expressing what you want to achieve in a single phrase. Looking back, it was a training ground for honing the ability to share the intuitive path forward with the entire team through a single "concept" phrase, rather than nitpicking the merits of each specific action plan, and collectively creating something new.

The quality of words we aim for is on par with masterpieces like Starbucks' "third place" or budget airlines' "flying bus" – but it's far from easy.

In the beginning, we often tried too hard to think "correctly," ending up with silly results. For example, "This new product is, in one word, 'simple and convenient.'" That's just a given for processed foods; it doesn't express any "novelty" at all.

Then, after a while, I got obsessed with trying to be clever, misunderstanding the need for a fresh angle. I ended up with clunky phrases like "In a word, 'heavenly rice porridge'," which were empty and left the development team staring blankly.

Through this trial and error, I gradually began to focus on creating a new kind of spotlight – one that intuitively conveys what makes it different from current common sense, or a kind of "rebuttal" to it. That's when I started to improve little by little.

In truth, this "one-liner" is the very essence of creative direction—guiding a team through ideas that often remain vague. Unfortunately, some creative directors neglect this, leading to instructions that rely solely on personal intuition: "That's kinda cool!" or "That's kinda off!"

I (probably quite unusually) first mastered this skill in product development and later applied it in advertising. Yet the "one-line" technique many outstanding creators hone in advertising is universally applicable across any industry. If only more people would seriously tackle product and business development across boundaries...

Well then.

After work, the tennis court. My greatest pleasure? Beer. After playing past 10 PM, I dive into a cafe restaurant known for its delicious fried food. The truth is, my weight is steadily dropping, but my cholesterol levels haven't budged. If I let my wife slip a word about this, it would be my last "terrifying secret."