London, 1604. Shakespeare is writing Othello and has a problem: the English language doesn’t have the word he needs. He wants to describe the moment when someone is killed for political reasons—but there’s no verb. Just “murder” (too generic) and “kill” (too simple).
So he does what any true creator does when the dictionary is empty: he invents.
“Assassination.”
It sounds violent even without knowing what it means. You feel the sound before the sense. That’s the power of linguistic invention—it creates experience before definition.
Four centuries later, a brand faces the same problem.
When language isn’t enough
1959, Haloid Company launches the first commercial photocopier. But how do you sell something the world doesn’t understand? “Electrophotography” sounds like an optional college course.
So they invent: Xerox. Zero meaning. Pure sound. The X gives technology. -erox gives substance.
Within 10 years, people weren’t saying “photocopy the document”—they were saying “xerox it.” The verb appeared before the dictionary definition.
Exactly what Shakespeare did—he invented because reality was moving faster than language.
According to Oxford English Dictionary research, Shakespeare was credited with over 33,300 citations in the dictionary’s second edition, of which over 2,000 are considered “first uses” of words in the English language. While the figure of 1,700 invented words is disputed by linguists—some considering the real number closer to 400-600 completely new words—the truth is more brutal: nobody knows for sure how many he invented, because many have become so normal they no longer seem invented. “Bedroom.” “Eyeball.” “Lonely.”
The same with brands—when the name becomes language, its invention history disappears.
The future is named: Shakespeare’s lesson for branding
When invention fails
But not every invention takes root.
Microsoft, 2006, wants to enter the MP3 player market. Apple already has iPod—an invented name, minimal, iconic. Microsoft responds with… Zune.
The sound was there. Unusual. Memorable. But the substance was missing. Zune sounded like something—but what? Nothing the world actually wanted.
Shakespeare invented words because his plays needed them. Characters felt things language couldn’t yet express. Invention came from necessity, not from the marketing department.
Google Wave. Quibi. Examples where linguistic invention failed not because of sound, but because of lack of substance.
The difference between Shakespeare and Zune? One invented because the story demanded it. The other invented because… well, the competition had done the same.
When sound beats logic
Kodak, 1888. George Eastman wants a name that: – Starts and ends with his favorite letter: K – Is short – Means nothing in any language (so it has no negative connotations)
He invented “Kodak” at his desk. Pure sound design. And it worked because the sound was hard, decisive, memorable—exactly like the product.
According to recent studies in neuroscience and cognitive psychology, brand names with a distinctive phonetic structure are significantly easier to remember. Words that are easy to pronounce and have a rhythmic flow tend to stay in memory more efficiently.
Research in brand naming shows that invented names, despite requiring higher initial marketing investments, generate more attention than descriptive or suggestive ones precisely because they’re unexpected. This strategic surprise makes them “stand out and stick in the mind.”
Google and the Verb
Google didn’t want to become a verb. In fact, it fought against it, because genericization can destroy a trademark. But language is more powerful than lawyers.
In 2002, American Dialect Society named “to google” the most useful word of the year. In 2006, both Merriam-Webster and Oxford English Dictionary officially added “google” as a verb. The first documented use on American television was in the episode “Help” from Buffy the Vampire Slayer (October 15, 2002), when Willow asked: “Have you googled her yet?”
Unlike most brands that become nouns (Kleenex, Aspirin, Escalator), Google became a transitive verb. It doesn’t replace the noun “search engine”—it replaces the act of searching. “I googled it” conveys the transfer of information, the consumption of knowledge.
And here’s the danger: Xerox partially lost control. Kleenex too. Linguistic success can become legal litigation—but that’s the price of invention.
Only 1/7 of words in dictionaries are verbs, compared to half that are nouns. The threshold for a brand to become a verb is much higher—but also much more powerful.
What real invention does
At BroHouse, we’ve seen hundreds of naming briefs. And the most frequent request sounds like this: “We want a name that says exactly what we do.”
But that’s the opposite of invention.
Shakespeare didn’t invent “assassination” to describe political murder—he invented it because he needed to create sonic experience before understanding. The word’s violence comes from sound, not from definition.
When we work on naming, the first question isn’t “what does the name say?” but “what does the name allow to become?”
Invention patterns
Shakespeare invented through: – Affixation: “unlock,” “unhand,” “unveil” (prefix “un-”) – Compounding: “eyeball,” “bedroom,” “bare-faced” – Conversion: transforming nouns into verbs and vice versa – New meanings: “angel” existed, but calling someone “angel” for beauty was new
Modern brands do exactly the same:
Spotify = “spot” + “identify” (compounding) Netflix = “net” + “flicks” (compounding + inventiveness) Venmo = “vendere” (Latin) + “mo” (mobile/money) (etymology + affixation)
David Placek from Lexicon Branding, who created over 4,000 brand names (Pentium, Swiffer, BlackBerry), says: “Invented names signal ‘new and innovative’ better than most other types of names. What’s more, because they’re unexpected rather than descriptive, they generate more attention.”
The sound test
“Dasani”—Coca-Cola’s water—is an invented name with “san” (health in Latin) in the middle, the “da” sound giving a fresh, clean experience, and the final “i” feeling light and thin.
Say out loud: Dasani. Pentium. Swiffer.
Sound creates expectations before the mind processes meaning.
BroHouse Framework for “Linguistic Invention”
- Linguistic audit: What words does everyone use in your industry?
- Identify the gap: What experience/emotion has no name?
- Invent methodically: – Combinations (Netflix, Venmo) – New sounds (Kodak, Xerox) – Cultural imports (Häagen-Dazs sounds Scandinavian, but it’s invented) – Portmanteau (Instagram = instant + telegram)
- Test sonority: Say it out loud 50 times. If you get bored or stumble, it doesn’t work.
- Validate with story: Does it work without long explanation? Or do you need to write a paragraph to justify it?
When to invent, when not to
Invent when: – Creating a new category (no existing language) – You have long-term brand building budget – You want maximum distinctiveness in a saturated market – Your target is global (invented names transcend linguistic barriers)
Don’t invent when: – You need immediate clarity (local business, B2B niche) – Marketing budget is limited – Category is traditional and descriptiveness matters – You want immediate organic SEO
The real risk isn’t inventing. It’s not inventing when the moment demands it.
The last word
London, 1604. Shakespeare writes “assassination” and doesn’t know that in 400 years, the word will be natural. He doesn’t explain. He doesn’t justify. He puts it in Macbeth’s mouth and lets the play define it.
That’s what a real brand does too—it doesn’t come with an instruction manual. It comes with an experience that demands a new name.
Shakespeare understood something simple: the future doesn’t come on its own. The future is named.
Every brand that changed an industry started with a new word. Uber. Spotify. Tesla (reinvented). Netflix.
They didn’t describe. They invented. And language followed.
Your next move in branding can be descriptive. Safe. Predictable.
Or it can be what Shakespeare would have approved: invention with courage.