“‘Children who made fun of me?’ Bastian repeated. ‘I don’t know of any children — and I’m sure no child would have dared to make fun of me.'”
One of my favorite books when I was a kid was The Neverending Story, which the above quote is from.
They made a movie out of the book, but the movie leaves out most of the important stuff. Such as the fact that Bastian (the boy reading the book inside the book) gets sucked into the storyland he’s reading about.
Once there, Bastian, who was fat, clumsy, and unpopular in real life, is transformed into a handsome prince. Even better, anything he wishes for becomes reality.
Bastian goes on like this for a while. He enjoys his new powers, and goes around the world of make-believe, telling fantastical stories.
But then the side-effects of all this wishing become obvious. Each time Bastian makes a wish, he loses a memory. By the end, he can’t remember who he is, what he wants, or how to get back home.
I always thought this is a metaphor for how direct marketing is supposed to work.
First, you massage your reader’s insecurities so he gets uncomfortable without knowing why. Then you get him hot and bothered with a giant promise that fulfills his deepest desires. Finally, you hit him with fantastical success stories, from the 0.1% of people who had the best results using your offer.
At this point, your reader pretty much can’t remember who he is or what he wanted in life prior to seeing your sales page. You can now give him all the legal disclaimers — “results not typical; you’ll have to work hard.” But it won’t matter, because he won’t be able to think logically any more. Any logical thinking will just support his desire to buy your product.
Of course, it doesn’t always work like this. But if it does work, then it seems to me like a pretty sleazy, shady, manipulative way to deal with people.
That’s something I think about on occasion. It doesn’t bother me too much, but it does bother me a bit. And if it bothers you a bit too, then I want to tell you another story:
It’s about copywriter and marketer Stefan Georgi. Stefan recently told an anecdote about one of his successful diabetes businesses.
Now, if you’ve ever read Stefan’s copy, you’ll know it fits the model I laid out above. It’s filled with dramatic life-or-death stories. It pushes emotional buttons hard. It’s over the top.
Anyways, Stefan said that for some reason, he decided to handle the support calls for this business one weekend. In other words, potential customers who were still undecided would call in, and Stefan would answer their questions.
And here’s the kicker:
These potential prospects would call and say things like, “Well, your sales letter sure was pretty over the top… but I found it entertaining. But can you tell me now for real… do you think this supplement really can help me?”
So people fully knew what they were in for. They weren’t really being manipulated… they were being entertained. This echoes something I heard Dan Ferrari say:
“Direct response is a hobby, not just as practitioners but for the buyers as well. The more you play that game, the more fun they have.”
Maybe you buy this. Maybe you don’t. But if you ever find yourself questioning what it is you’re doing with your life, then tell yourself you’re basically providing entertainment for people. And, of course, getting paid well for it.