Camelopards and soft Facebook advertorials

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Samuel Johnson, who wrote the first great dictionary of the English language, did not like to bathe.

“Mr. Johnson,” said a lady to him once, “you smell!”

“No madam,” retorted Johnson, “you smell. I stink.”

Had Johnson lived today, he might be a hard-working Facebook copywriter. At least that’s how I imagine it, after spending this morning “softening up” an advertorial supposed to run on Facebook traffic.

The original version of the copy mentioned death, bleeding, skin cancer, organ failure, and hospital visits.

The new version looks much the same. But there is no death or bleeding. Skin cancer has become growths on the skin, organ failure is now “internal systems” failure, and hospital visits have morphed into “a trip to the family GP.”

The first version was unacceptable. The second version seems to be acceptable, to Facebook at least.

But here’s the point I want to share with you, which might be useful even if you don’t write FB advertorials:

It pays to write an extreme, un-self-censored first version of your ad.

In other words, your initial draft should stink, not smell.

It’s easy to wave your arms a bit and clear out the stench from a particularly offensive passage. It’s much harder to take a bunch of lukewarm milk and turn it into pungent Limburger.

Finally, do you know what a camelopard is? You will soon. Because here, to close on an educational note, are three unique and precise definitions from that dictionary of Johnson’s:

1. “Camelopard, noun: An Abyssinian animal, taller than an elephant, but not so thick. He is so named, because he has a neck and head like a camel; he is spotted like a pard, but his spots are white upon a red ground. The Italians call him giaraffa.”

2. “Monsieur, noun [French]: A term of reproach for a Frenchman.”

3. “Oats, noun: A Grain, which in England is generally given to horses, but in Scotland supports the people.”

All right, one more definition. Email newsletter, noun: A sequence of formatting-free emails, containing content like you’ve just read, arriving once a day to your own inbox. Available here.

No respect at home for history’s most famous ad

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In the fall of 1925, a 25-year-old Naval Academy graduate read the 4-Hour Work Week.

The book changed his life. He quit his boring engineering job, took an evening course in copywriting, and started working at a mail-order agency.

In the first few months of his new career, the young man already wrote a string of major winners. Among them was one that became the most famous ad of all time:

“They larfed when I sat down at the piano. But when I started to play!”

The young man’s name was John Caples. That Christmas, just a few months after starting his new job, Caples headed home to visit his family. He packed some of his winning ads under his arm so he could show them off to his mom and dad.

At home, Caples’s mom started reading those winning ads out loud in the kitchen. She became increasingly concerned. “Baldy?” “Fat men?” This was not what she expected from her son. “You better not let your father see this,” she said to young John.

Fact is, direct response copy is not very reputable. You’re not writing poetry. You’re trying to persuade.

The result might be unreadable to anybody who’s not in your target market. This probably includes your parents (though my mom, an inveterate direct response customer, is always supportive).

But so what? You win either way. If your friends and family are horrified by the schlock you write, at least you have a good story you can use in your next ad. Because like John Caples showed almost 100 years ago, stories featuring embarrassment, self-doubt, disapproval — and eventual triumph — are evergreen sellers.

Sales copy written by hallucinatory voices

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True story:

An otherwise healthy woman, identified only as AB, suddenly started hearing voices in her head.

The year was 1984. The place was England.

The voices reassured AB they were medical professionals trying to help her.

They even gave AB some convincing secret info to prove their claims.

But AB concluded she was going insane. She went to a psychiatrist and was prescribed an antipsychotic medication.

The voices stopped. AB, relieved and happy, went on holiday.

But then the voices returned. They told her to head home. They sent AB to an unknown address. It turned out to be a medical center specializing in brain scans.

The voices told AB to get one of those brain scans on her own noggin.

AB’s doctor was initially reluctant — brain scans are expensive and the woman was crazy — but in the end, AB got her brain scan. And then another.

It turned out that, even though she showed no symptoms, she had a large tumor inside her skull.

One brain surgery later, and the tumor was removed.

After AB regained consciousness following surgery, the voices told her, “We are pleased to have helped you. Goodbye.” AB never heard from them again, and she continued to live a normal and healthy life.

AB’s psychiatrist, who wrote up this report, said that his colleagues fell into two camps:

Group one thought this was proof positive of benevolent telepathic communication.

Group two thought AB was a big ole grifter, and that she was inventing this story as a way of getting free access to the UK’s health services (AB wasn’t born in the UK, but she had lived there for 15 years before this case).

The psychiatrist offered a third explanation. ​​Even though AB wasn’t manifesting any symptoms, it’s likely that the large tumor in her head made her feel somehow off. It’s possible that her unconscious started slyly gathering relevant information and making its own diagnosis. Eventually, this erupted in AB’s head as hallucinations.

I find this third explanation plausible. And I bring it up for two reasons.

First, it meshes well with how I imagine my sense of self. And that’s a flimsy wooden raft, floating on the surface of a dark and deep loch.

Reason two is that this might help reduce your workload.

Because writing is work. But you know what’s not work? Having ideas pop up in your head without any effort.

For example, I sometimes just “visit” what I want to write. I look over the topic and any research I might have collected. I then go do other stuff and allow the monsters under the surface to digest that information.

For me, there’s no work. I don’t have to do it. All I have to do is simply write it down.

Maybe you can try the same. Just put a lump of an idea into your head. Then go about your day. When you start hearing voices, calmly reach for a writing apparatus and take dictation. And when the voices finish, don’t forget to say thank you, and invite them to visit you again.

Expert advice on how to start an email magazine

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In 2015, Alex Lieberman started sending a daily email to 45 friends and classmates at the University of Michigan. Each email was empty except for a PDF attachment. The PDF was made from an ugly Word doc template, and contained a fun-to-read summary of the top business news for that day.

Alex managed to make this daily email into a profitable business. That sounds pretty attractive to me, because I’ve been thinking about starting a new project.

What I’d love is to start a magazine, but magazines are dying or dead. Websites aren’t magazines either — there’s no real engagement or loyalty.

I realized that the closest thing today to my fantasy magazine is simply an email newsletter. But newsletter is an overloaded term. So let’s call it an email magazine.

Since I’m thinking about this, I wanted to do some learning from people who have been successful doing the same. Alex Lieberman, who I mentioned above, is definitely among them.

Since that PDF-based start in 2015, Alex moved his content fully into the email. He also grew his subscriber list from 45 people to over a million today. He doesn’t call his business a magazine, but he does accept ads, for which big corporations pay upward of $50k for a one-shot placement.

As of 2019, Alex’s daily newsletter, called Morning Brew, is making $13 million a year in ad revenue.

So I tracked down a detail-rich interview with Alex Lieberman. I think it could be valuable to you whether you want the details on how Alex built up Morning Brew… whether you too want to start an “email magazine”… or even if you want to grow an email list for a more grimy direct response business.

The good stuff in the interview starts after minute 22. I’ve linked to it below:

How to build up immunity to writing huge amounts of copy

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June 22, 1941, exactly 79 years ago, saw the start of the largest military operation in history, code name Barbarossa. 3 million Third Reich soldiers and 600,000 Third Reich horses headed east and invaded Russia.

In spite of all that man and horse, it didn’t work out well for the Germans.

No surprise there. Just another instance of the most famous of the classic blunders of history:

“Never get involved in a land war in Asia.”

That line comes from a scene in The Princess Bride (book or movie), in which the Dread Pirate Roberts wins a deadly battle of wits.

He wins because he has spent the past few years building up an immunity to iocaine pwder, a colorless, odorless, instantly dissolving poison.

Which brings me to the inspirational pitch I want to make to you today:

It’s incredible what you can get used to, if you only start small enough and then build up.

Take for example, writing.

I started writing emails regularly about three years ago, At first, I did it only twice a week, and for another of my sites.

I then bumped up the frequency to three times a week. And then every day.

As of today, I’ve written 500+ emails for this list alone, and that’s in addition to hundreds (or thousands) of other emails I’ve written for clients, including several daily email lists I’ve worked on and continue to work on.

I would never have been able to put out this amount of content each day when I first started. But over the course of a few years, I slowly built up an immunity to it.

And so can you. If you get started now. And if you’re motivated enough to survive the deadly battle of wits that is the freelance copywriting marketplace.

But maybe you’re confused. I’ve referred several times to emails but this is a blog post. But it started out as an email, and as part of my daily email newsletter. If you’re interested, you can sign up for it here.

Second hand news: My 10 direct response fundamentals that work almost any time

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Do direct response prospects still respond to “How to” headlines?

Or is it better to strip off the “How to” and give them a command?

I decided to test this out. The results were instructive, but not in the way you might expect.

Anyways, ​​I don’t have a live sales letter running, but I do have several large email lists that I can send A/B-split emails to.

So I prepared one email with a “How to” subject line and identical “How to” CTA text. The other subject line and CTA were the same, except if you imagine a pitbull came and ripped the “How to” part to shreds.

Result?

The “How to” variant had marginally lower open rates… marginally lower clickthrough rates… and marginally higher total sales.

In other words, a total testing washout. I repeated the test a couple days in a row, and same crabstick.

You might not be surprised. In fact, you might think this is a perfect example of testing “whispers” — irrelevant details that don’t really move the sales needle.

I agree. The only reason I tested this is because I was told, on very good authority by a very successful copywriter, that “How to” headlines, much like a love affair between Stevie Nicks and Lindsey Buckingham, are a nostalgic throwback to the 70s. In other words, second hand news.

Maybe you think I’m wasting your time, but there’s a bigger point here.

After doing this copywriting stuff for a while, after reading a bunch of books, watching a bunch of courses, talking to other copywriters, and most importantly, writing copy and seeing the results of actual campaigns, I’ve come to a couple conclusions.

First, top copywriters really do produce better copy and get better results. But much of the specific copywriting advice out there — “Don’t use ‘How to’ headlines in today’s market” — is really unproven intuition or personal preference.

My other conclusion is that there are just a few direct response fundamentals that really matter, and that really work in almost any context. I wrote down 10 of them. (It was hard to get to 10.)

When in doubt, I will go back to these 10 ideas. If you want, I’m sharing them with you below. You’re unlikely to find something surprising or new here. But you might find a good reminder — and that’s really what the point is. Anyways, here’s the list:

1. Markets are problems. Address problems.

2. Curiosity works to get people’s attention, and to keep people’s attention.

3. Start where the reader is. Positioning is probably the most important decision you can make.

4. Accept that you don’t have the reader’s full attention and that the channel is noisy. Adjust your marketing and your copy for this.

5. What you say is more important than how you say it.

6. Concrete beats abstract. Stories beat sermons.

7. It’s a numbers game. The best you can do is make an educated guess. Or better yet, several educated guesses.

8. Your copy can probably use more drama than it currently has.

9. New sells real well. New product. New mechanism. New understanding.

10. Give people a way to justify making this purchase. Justifications can be proof… or another dimension of benefits… or a risk-free offer.

I’m back. Just to tell you one last instructive thing. I write a daily email newsletter. If you want to read more of what I write as it comes out, then one option is to subscribe to that newsletter. If you want, here’s where to sign up.

Why 30 minutes is better than 2 minutes

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How do you get a penthouse on New York’s Park Avenue, a world famous art collection, and an all-around very good life?

Ask copywriter Gene Schwartz, because he had all three.

Gene paid for it all with his direct mail copywriting, both for clients and for his own publishing business.

Gene’s secret to success?

Hard work.

How hard?

“I work three hours a day,” Gene said, “every single day for five days a week. That’s all I work.”

I don’t know about you, but I feel three hours a day is something even I could manage.

But enough chop licking.

The real reason I bring up Gene Schwartz is because I re-watched an old presentation he gave at Rodale Press.

The presentation was interesting through and through. But what really caught my eye was one of the questions asked at the end.

​​It was very much connected to an issue I’m seeing with the ecommerce emails I write a lot of. I’ll talk about that another time. For now, here’s the question Gene faced:

Back in the 90s when this all happened, Rodale was running 2-minute TV commercials to sell its books. People bought these books in good numbers. But they didn’t buy very many books after, which is where all the profits are made in direct response.

So the question to Gene was, why do these TV customers not continue to buy as well as those who get one of Gene’s monster direct mail packages?

Gene responded:

“Think of what the person has committed who buys your book. If I send them this monster [holds up one direct mail package] or this monster [holds up another], well, this person really and honestly spends 15 minutes to a half hour on this thing. He really devotes a great deal of time to it. So what he’s not doing is just sending you a check for $29. He’s sending you 30 minutes. When you get a person who gets two minutes, he’s not doing anything like that.”

Gene summed it up by saying, “Different type of person. Different type of commitment.”

Here’s what I get out of this:

One of the most common questions by marketing normies is, “Why are those sales letters so long? Nobody will read that.”

The typical answer is that some people do in fact read it, and that’s how long it takes to convince 2% of them to buy.

That’s part of the answer, but it’s obviously not the whole answer. After all, Rodale sold the same books through 2-minute TV ads and 25-page direct mail pieces.

The other part is there in Gene’s response. Different marketing selects different groups of people as your customers. And it actually changes the psychology of those customers, not just in the moment when they order your product, but for the future as well.

You’re not just pushing benefits. You’re training people to be better customers. So if anybody asks you why you write those ridiculously long sales letters (or all those stupid email) that nobody ever reads, tell them the truth:

Because it’s the only way to pay for a Park Avenue penthouse, working just 3 hours a day.

Speaking of stupid emails — I write a daily email newsletter. Since you’ve just spent two minutes reading something I’ve written, you might be committed enough to get on it. If that’s the case, here’s where to go.

The invaluable experience of freelancing for peanuts

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Today, I was waiting in line at the grocery store and watching the fiasco up front.

A woman of indeterminate middle age, wearing skimpy latex shorts and big leather boots, had just put all her groceries on the conveyor belt.

Only once the grocery dude rang everything up and it was time to pay, did Cruella de Vil realize she didn’t have her wallet.

Ok, it happens to everybody. But then it went to another level.

“Please put the groceries aside,” she commanded the grocery dude, “I’ll be back in a minute.”

She left the store, I guess to get her wallet.

She was back in 5 seconds.

“Could you put the groceries in a bag for me and charge me for the bag? I’ll be in a hurry when I get back.”

The grocery dude was confused but he did as he was told. Cruella left the store for a second time.

She was back again in another 10 seconds.

“Actually I’ve got my own bag,” she said. She unwrapped a little designer nylon bag and started packing her groceries inside. She still hadn’t paid or even gotten her wallet. Eventually she left for the third time.

But let’s switch to another topic for a second.

Before all this happened — in fact, all the way yesterday — I got involved in a discussion on Reddit.

The gist of the discussion was an old freelance copywriter conundrum:

Is it worth working for peanuts at the start of your freelance copywriting journey… or is it better to hone your skills in secret, and then to approach higher-caliber clients straight away?

I was on the peanuts side. My argument was that peanuts are better than no peanuts.

Other people disagreed, because they find peanuts offensive.

It’s too bad the discussion stopped there.

Because peanuts or no peanuts, I feel there’s a lot of value in getting experience with client work, even if the money is laughable.

For example, some clients can be very demanding. But when it comes to paying, suddenly they’ve forgotten their wallet at home, just like Cruella did in the story above.

Eventually, you can learn to recognize the red flags, like the tiny latex shorts or the big Doc Martens. But you have to have those experiences yourself.

That’s why I think, if you’re just starting out, it’s good to get going with client work as soon as possible. You’ll get invaluable experience in the business of copy. And the fact that a client is paying you peanuts can even be a benefit, because it can take much of the pressure off.

The Joey Tribbiani school of subtle persuasion

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Over the years, I’ve said a lot of bad things about the TV show Friends. I take it all back. Because a few days ago, a kind and multi-talented reader wrote in to point out the persuasion lesson hiding right in the pilot episode.

The scene is set in a Manhattan apartment of one Ross Geller, circa 1994. Ross’s wife has just left him. Ross is desperate. He fears he will never find love again. What if there’s only one woman for every man?

Joey Tribbiani, Ross’s man-whore friend, is personally offended by this idea. “That’s like saying there’s only one flavor of ice cream for you. Let me tell you something… there’s lots of flavors out there. Rocky Road… cookie dough… cherry vanilla! This is the best thing that ever happened to you! Welcome back to the world. Grab a spoon!”

Perhaps this scene is not terribly convincing, much like all of Friends. But it does illustrate the gist of a powerful way to create insight. And that’s persuading by metaphor or analogy.

“Romantic partners are like ice cream.” When your brain hears this, it starts to look for points of similarity. It maps obvious features of one thing to another. And if those fit well enough, your brain jumps to the conclusion that other, less obvious features map also.

“Ice cream comes in different flavors. So do romantic partners. Just because you like one flavor, that doesn’t mean you cannot like another.” Maybe you’re not convinced. But Ross is.

By the end of the pilot episode, Ross makes a bold move on his old high-school crush, Rachel. “Do you think it would be ok,” Ross asks, “if I asked you out, sometime, maybe?”

Rachel realizes she’s dealing with a child. “Yeah, maybe,” she says.

That’s good enough for Ross. He leaves the apartment, walking on a cloud. “What’s with you?” asks his sister.

A smile spreads across Ross’s face. “I just grabbed a spoon.”

Here’s why this kind of persuasion works — even outside of 90s sitcoms.

We often get entrenched in a way of thinking. Getting out of that rut can be hard. That’s what analogies and metaphors are for. They create a new perspective — a new pattern of thought — around an old and familiar problem.

Imagine a cliffside of sheer rock, jutting straight up. You want to get to the top. “But it’s impossible,” you tell yourself.

An analogy is a wooden arrow sign, stuck into the ground next to that cliff. “Hidden staircase this way,” it says. All you have to do is follow where it’s pointing.

Computer genius Alan Kay once said that a change in perspective is worth 80 IQ points. It doesn’t take a genius to see that, if you can make a good analogy to your prospect and raise his IQ by 80 points, he might finally be smart enough to see the value in your offer.

How valuable would that be for you?

Well, after the pilot, Friends ran for another 262 episodes. Today, 25 years later, the franchise is still worth over $1 billion each year, thanks to reruns.

Am I saying that analogies could be worth $1 billion to you? No. But maybe, for a split-second, your brain jumped to that conclusion.

By the way, I’m putting together a book on other strategies for creating insight in your prospect. If you want to know more and get notified when the book is out, one option is to get on my daily email newsletter.

A current case of whale fall

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On May 17, I wrote about whale fall. That’s my term for how little businesses or even individuals can carve out a unique position for themselves in the marketplace, by feeding off the carcass of a dead or declining whale.

Today, I want to share a quick news bite with you regarding this:

Hey, a new email provider, is out there right now looking to replace the likes of Google’s Gmail.

“Gmail has basically frozen all innovation in email for a good decade,” said David Heinemeier Hansson, one of the guys behind Hey.

(Heinemeier Hansson is well-known in nerd circles, because he is one of the developers and co-founders of Ruby on Rails and Basecamp, and because he is an all-around loud guy.)

So Hey is reimagining email. Each new sender first has to get your consent, or they become ignored. Tracking pixels are automatically blocked. Hey doesn’t have an inbox, but it does have something called an “Imbox.”

As of now, you can only get on the waiting list for a Hey email account. And you have to write a haiku to do it. (I’m not kidding.) Once you are on the waiting list, if your haiku is approved, you then get the chance to pay Heinemeier Hansson $99 for a year of Hey email.

Pretty outrageous, right?

And yet, there is apparently a line of people, wrapping twice around the Internet, who have submitted their haikus and who are holding their $99 in hand, ready to hand it over.

I personally don’t think Hey will succeed long-term, at least as it currently stands. But I bring this story up for two reasons:

1. Even if Hey is not successful, it might have an impact on how promotional emails are handled.

There were already rumblings last summer that Apple was doing some anti-marketing email moves. Now, other tech whales might get in on it. If you are in marketing, it’s good to keep half an eye on these things so you don’t get blindsided.

2. The number one ideal of any whale is to get larger and to absorb more. Along the way, whales get sloppy. So if your primary concern is freedom rather than size, then you can follow your instincts and even make a good business out of it.

That’s the essence of whale fall, and that’s what Hey illustrates, even before it’s launched.

In other news, I just read that Google is facing a $5 billion lawsuit for tracking Chrome users in incognito mode. Maybe it’s time to reimagine how people access their porn? For the right person or small business, it could be a brand new whale fall opportunity.

In still other news, did you get that initial email I sent on May 17 about whale fall? If not, maybe it’s because you’re not subscribed to my email newsletter. Or you’ve got Hey, and you didn’t give your consent to receive my daily emails. In the second case, there’s not much I can do. But if the first case is the problem, here’s how to get on my newsletter list.