Creating Content

The six-word email, with examples

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I’m sitting on the couch as I write this, next to the open balcony doors, in my underwear, eyes bleary, hair looking like a lawnmower went over it, in a press to write a personal and yet valuable email to you before.

Before what?

Before it’s time for me to rush out of the house and go pick up my rental car and then drive up the coast for the day. The idea is to give myself a chance to burn in the sun, on a beautiful beach I will visit for the first time in my life.

But what to write about?

Fortunately, I wrote down a concept for today’s email almost two weeks ago:

“The six-word email, with examples”

That concept is based on an idea from Hollywood.

​​Your story should fit into six words, say Hollywood screenwriting . Here are a few examples from Dumb Little Writing Tricks That Work, a series from Scott Myers’s Go Into The Story blog:

1. Human Spy on an Alien Planet

2. Loner cop. New partner. Police dog.

3. Infatuated boy. Dream girl. Find condom.

“Fine,” I said to myself when I read this idea. “Let me put it into action and try it out.”

So ​​I made a list of 10 possible email ideas, each just six words. And then, over the past couple of weeks, I’ve been slowly sending them out. Example:

1. Emails without offer: stupid. Hence, consulting.

2. Results of my “rape” subject line.

3. What’s working on Substack right now?

And of course today’s email is another example of the six-word email.

Because it’s not that the email has to actually be six words itself. But rather, the core idea should be simple and easy to express, in just six words.

In some of my example emails above, I ran on too long and covered up the core message with too many words.

I won’t make that mistake today.

So let me just say, if you think you have no time to write daily emails, then do what I did.

Make a list of 10 six-word email concepts. Flesh them out a bit in an interesting and insightful way, and then send them out.

And if you say you don’t know how to come up with interesting six-word email concepts… or a way to quickly and easily flesh them out in an interesting and insightful way, then you might like:

A free presentation I will be putting on in the next week. It’s called the Most Valuable Email.

The details of this presentation will come tomorrow. If you’d like to read those details when they come out, or even sign up for my Most Valuable Email presentation, you can do that by getting onto my email newsletter. Sign up for it here.

How to come up with email topics your list will love to read and not buy from

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I just got home from a beautiful, sunny, morning walk. Not only is it Sunday morning, but where I am right now, it’s Easter, which means the streets are blessedly empty. Just the sun, trees, birds, and occasional whining cat are out and about.

I got home filled with positive impressions and opened my laptop. YouTube asked — resume video?

Suddenly, a weight settled on my shoulders.

​​I have a habit of leaving music playing when I go out of the house. It happened this morning too, until YouTube paused it at some point. Now it was asking if I want to continue.

My finger lingered over the resume button. I could see the next song that would play. It was both appealing and repulsive:

Gerry Rafferty’s Baker Street.

I’m telling you all this as an example of a real problem I’ve noticed in my life.

​​My mind is becoming a closed garden, with songs I have known before and humor and ideas I have known before as the only plants that have a chance to take root.

I’ve listened to Baker Street, by my estimate, some 13 million times in my life. Do I need to listen to it again? No, in fact, it’s become irritating. But do I want to listen to anything else, anything new? Not really.

I don’t have a solution to this problem.

​​Perhaps you have a solution for me.

Or perhaps you don’t. Perhaps just have the same problem, and feel a little excited that at least one other person shares your problem.

Or perhaps not even that. Perhaps you don’t have this problem at all, but you just found it curious to read that somebody could experience such a deep life crisis around the topic of Baker Street.

If any of these is true, then I guess I’ve done my job.

Because when I opened up my laptop, closed down YouTube (sorry Gerry), and got to work, I made a list.

​​It was titled, “10 problems I have in my life right now.”

Making this list wasn’t depressing. In fact was a relief to get it out of my head and on to the page.

#8 was the “closed garden” problem above.

#6 was that I have no email topic for today.

​​Well, at least that problem’s solved for now.

So maybe you can do the same. If you have to come up with ideas, topics, or content, start by making an honest list of problems you have in your life. And then pick one of those problems and write about it.

​​It always does well for me when I send out an email like that.

“You mean you make lots of sales like that?” you ask.

What, have you been reading my “10 problems” list?
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​​The answer is no, if you really must know. I don’t make sales like that, but that’s because I don’t have enough offers to sell. That’s a real problem in my life. Well, at least until I turn it into a topic for another email. If you want to read that when it comes out, or if you’re interested in copywriting and marketing, sign up to my email newsletter.

Cow Tools

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“We give up. Being intelligent, hard-working men, we don’t often say this, but your cartoon has proven to be beyond any of our intellectual capabilities… Is there some significance to this cartoon that eludes us, or have we been completely foolish in our attempts to unravel the mystery behind ‘Cow Tools’?”
— Reader, California

Maybe you’ve heard about Cow Tools. It’s a cartoon that appeared in October 1982. It showed a cow, with some strange implements in front of it. Beneath, the caption read, “Cow tools.”

Cow Tools was done by Gary Larson, as part of his The Far Side comic, which was syndicated in newspapers around the U.S.

Larson’s The Far Side was well-known for its strange and even absurd humor. But Cow Tools missed the mark and left a buncha people confused, or worse. Hundreds of them wrote messages like the above to Larson, asking for an explanation and maybe some peace.

“Off days are a part of life,” Larson likes to say, “whether you’re a cartoonist, a neurosurgeon, or an air-traffic controller.”

Here’s something else Gary said:

In the first year or two of drawing The Far Side, I always believed my career hung by a thread. And this time I was convinced it was finally severed. Ironically, when the dust had finally settled and as a result of all the “noise” it made, Cow Tools became more of a boost to The Far Side than anything else.

So in summary, I drew a really weird, obtuse cartoon that no one understood and wasn’t funny and therefore I went on to even greater success and recognition.

There you go. If you’ve been looking for a permission slip to get going with your own bit of daily content — a cartoon, a dirty limerick, a newsletter email — then I don’t think you will find a better one than the story of Cow Tools.

​​The message is clear. When your thing is good, good. And when it’s not good, even better.

By the way, would you like to get the next issue of The Bejako Side? It’s my own daily cartoon strip. Actually, newsletter. Sometimes off, sometimes it hits the mark. If you’re curious, you can sign up for it here.

Look at your copy… it should make you cringe

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“‘Bild’ car tester Peter Glodschey compared the new Panda to a ‘shoe box.’ But shoe boxes look nicer.”

In 1999, Italian designer Giorgetto Giugiaro was named “Car Designer of the Century.” Giugiaro designed such icons as the 1961 Aston Martin DB4… the 1966 Maserati Ghibli… and the 1981 DeLorean, which would time-travel once it reached speeds of 88 miles an hour.

But Giugiaro also designed some ugly ducklings. There was the 1988 Yugo Florida… the 1985 Hyundai Excel… and the initial Fiat Panda.

Back in 1980, when the Panda came out, Giugiaro called it the “most enchanting work in my life.” But reviewers weren’t buying it. German magazine Der Spiegel likened the Panda to a “tin gnome,” while Bild called it a “shoe box” (quote above).

You can’t win ’em all, right? But you can learn from your flops, and see how you can improve.

I don’t know if Giorgetto Giugiaro ever did this. But I decided it was a good idea for myself. Because I remember hearing somewhere that if you look at your copy from a few years earlier, it should make you cringe. That means you’re improving.

So I just went through an email I wrote exactly two years ago. My face didn’t lock up from cringing… but the email could definitely be better. So I wrote up a cold and nasty critique to myself, about what needs to be changed, cut, or made sexy instead of grandmotherly.

It was a good exercise. And if you’re interested, I’ll share my results with you tomorrow. Maybe these insights, which come after 2+ years of non-stop daily emails, can help shorten your own learning curve. Maybe they can help you get from “shoe box” to “enchanting work” a bit more quickly.

How to “remember” your way out of the hard labor of writing

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Samuel Coleridge awoke from a deep opium slumber, grabbed a pen and paper, and scribbled down three stanzas that he says he composed in his dream.

At that moment, an unidentified person from Porlock interrupted Coleridge.

Once Coleridge made it back to his pen and paper, he found that the visions had vanished and he couldn’t complete the poem he had started.

The poem that Colerdige had written lingered unfinished for years, when at the suggestion of Lord Byron, it was published under the title Kubla Khan. It remains famous to this day, some two hundred years later.

Meanwhile, “the person from Porlock” has entered the lexicon as an unwanted intruder who disrupts inspiration or a moment of creativity.

If you ever struggle to write something, there’s a lesson hidden there in the story of Coleridge’s Kubla Khan. At least I think so.

I personally often write by “remembering” the finished product — before it is written.

Of course, this is a complete trick and a lie. But it works for me. It might work for you too. Here’s what to do:

Basically, instead of outlining or writing what you have to write, you pretend you’ve already written it. It’s there vaguely in your memory, as though you dreamt it.

So you grab a pen and paper, or more likely your laptop, and start furiously writing down whatever you can remember.

If you’ve already forgotten some part, just leave some XXXs to be filled in later.

The key is to get as much of your structure and individual words down as you can before your poem — or your sales copy or whatever — disappears into the darkness of the night.

And of course, beware of the person from Porlock. Any kind of distraction — whether checking your mail, doing a bit of research, or picking up your phone — can kill your visions. And then you are left with the hard labor of writing, instead of the easy act of remembering what was already written.

Do you think this was a useless suggestion? In that case, you probably won’t be interested in signing up for my daily email newsletter. But in case you are interested, click here and face the window that magically appears.

How to write slowly

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“In ten hours a day you have time to fall twice as far behind your commitments as in five hours a day.”
— Isaac Asimov

It took me about two hours to finish this post.

I didn’t spend most of that time writing. Instead, I looked over notes for topics I meant to cover but didn’t… I read articles searching for inspiration… I picked up and then put down a book.

The trouble of course was that I had a large block of free time today.

I finished with client work some time earlier… I have a client call later tonight. In between, the only thing I have to do is to write this daily post.

Hence, two hours. To write about 300 words. You might know this as Parkinson’s Law:

“Work expands so as to fill the time available for its completion.”

It’s a problem in my life. And it’s one of the reasons I’ve decided to overbook myself with work — about three times the usual amount — for the coming month.

Because according to marketer Ben Settle, writing lots of words under intense deadline pressure will make you a faster writer. Permanently.

I’ll let you know how it works out. (Although there’s no need to wait for me. It’s something you can try yourself right now.)

Anyways, I’ve long collected copywriters’ advice on how to write faster.

So far, I’ve got direct “how to write fast” tips from Ben Settle (above), Dan Ferrari, David Deutsch, Colin Theriot, and a few others. I’ve also connected some ideas I read from people like Gary Halbert and Gary Bencivenga to the topic of writing faster.

So here’s my offer:

If these tips interest you, sign up for my daily email newsletter. If I share this complete collection of tips, that’s the first place it will go.

Shooting the literotica arrow into the bullseye of fame and sales

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“I went to the beach on my own. It was a warm and nice day. There was another girl there. She had come from another island because our beach was sunnier and more secluded. We lay there completely naked and sunbathed… dozing off and on, putting sunscreen on. We had silly straw hats on. Mine had a blue ribbon. I lay there… looking out at the landscape, at the sea and the sun. It was kind of funny. Suddenly I saw two figures on the rocks above us.”

That’s a bit of monologue from a movie I just watched called Persona. One of the main characters recounts how she had an impromptu orgy at the beach with three strangers. Post-orgy, she goes home and has sex with her fiance. “It had never been that good,” she says, “before or after.”

“I know this script!” I told myself while watching this. I didn’t know it from this movie or any other. I knew it from a book I read a long time ago called Sperm Wars.

Sperm Wars was a kind of “Selfish Gene” applied to human sexuality. It was all very well researched and very scientific. And it was very popular when it came out. I guess partly because of those interesting scientific insights… but more importantly, because of the format.

Because Sperm Wars wasn’t your typical pop science book. Instead, each chapter started out with a story, setting up the science that was about to go down. The above scene from Persona was something straight out of Sperm Wars. In effect, Sperm Wars allowed you to read literotica, but you could pretend you were learning something enlightening about human biology.

So what’s the point of this?

Well, I’ve been collecting examples and ideas for spicing up ye olde regular content. I gave you one example a few days ago with that medieval warfare blog. I think literotica + [your topic] is another great arrow to keep in your quiver. Like I said, Sperm Wars definitely shot that arrow into the bullseye of fame and sales.

Of course, maybe literotica isn’t your kind of arrow. So give it some thought. Maybe another lurid genre would work better. And maybe you’ll get lucky and come upon a real winner. Something that makes you say, “It had never been that good, before or after.”

Looking for more lurid content like this? I write a daily email newsletter. Click here in case you want to sign up for it.

How to make your dry expertise sexy and shareable

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A few days ago, I saw a tantalizing clickbait headline, which read,

“Was there PTSD in the ancient or medieval world?”

I clicked and landed on a blog post, which took me for a spin. It turns out there was no PTSD way back when. But that doesn’t matter as much as what I read at the top of the post.

At the top of the post, the author, one Brett Deveraux, gave a recap of the first year of his blog. He started in May 2019. He’s written several dozen posts since then, mostly on ancient military history.

But get this… Deveraux’s blog has had 650,000 visits so far. The number of monthly visitors keeps growing. Each post gets dozens of comments. And Deveraux’s even got 93 Patreon subscribers.

Just in case I am not making the astoudingness of this perfectly clear:

This is an academic historian. Writing on things like PTSD in the Roman army. Who will soon get a million eyeballs on his blog. And who, if he were just a tad better at marketing, could pull in thousands of dollars from his hobby site each month.

Doesn’t this sound like 2010? Is the long tail still alive and well? Does Google have a crush on Brett Devereaux for some reason?

Here’s my theory.

The most popular content on Deveraux’s site, by far, is a series of posts analyzing the siege of Gondor. (Lord of the Rings movie 2, in case you’re too cool.)

In other words, Deveraux used a popular movie to illustrate his arcane knowledge. Knowledge which would otherwise be completely indigestible to the vast majority of people.

This reminded me of another popular content creator I’ve been harping on about. I’m talking about movie editor Tony Zhou. Zhou’s Every Frame a Painting on YouTube has the exact same structure as Deveraux’s blog. An expert in a specialized field, using fun pop culture to illustrate the basics of his craft.

As a result of this pop culture + expert mashup, Zhou and Deveraux had their content massively shared. For Zhou, it was through YouTube and on sites like Reddit. For Deveraux, it seems the nerds at Hacker News really like his stuff.

That’s how both Zhou and Deveraux got all that traffic and engagement.

So what’s the point of all this?

Well, I would like to suggest that this is a model you too could use. If you have any kind of dry, industry-specific knowledge nobody seems to care about, then pair it up with sexy pop culture illustrations. Show a clip from a movie. Then explain what really happened there, seen through the lens of your unique wisdom.

And write me a year after you publish your first post or video. Let me know how many millions of views you’ve had in the meantime. And if you need help monetizing your site at that point… well, that’s where my own dry expertise comes in.

The only currency your reader cares about

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Don’t let the socialists hear about this one:

Back in 1832, a horse-and-man organization called the Equitable Labor Exchange issued a unique currency.

This currency looked much like your everyday money (with numbers and signatures and familiar font and color)…

It also functioned much like money (you could use it to pay at local London shops, several theaters, and even a tollgate)…

But unlike money, which is an abstract, bodyless entity, each unit of this currency represented something hard and definite:

One hour of labor.

This time-currency was conceived by one Robert Owen, a do-gooding factory owner who wanted to unleash prosperity and happiness on 19th-century Britain.

The start of Owen’s plan looked promising. Within 17 weeks, the Equitable Labor Exchange had deposits worth 440,000 work hours.

But ultimately, the project turned out to be a failure. The system was rewarding inefficiency. The Equitable Labor Exchange and its time-money disappeared a few years later.

Still, Robert Owen was on to a good idea, at least for copywriting.

Because even though we all assume copywriting prospects are moved by money, the same problem exists today:

Money remains an abstract, shapeless, bodyless entity.

Fortunately, money can buy you lots of shapeful, concrete things. And so you can convince readers of the value of what you’re selling, not by repeating numbers with a dollar sign in front of them… but by converting money into what it does:

So $0.24 becomes a romantic dinner over a bowl of Maruchan instant ramen…

$12.99 becomes a year’s worth of fun and insight, reading Modern Cat magazine…

And $19.84 becomes 10 gallons of gasoline, which by my back-of-the-envelope math, is enough to power a chainsaw long enough to cut down 280 oak trees. That’s a small forest!

Maybe I’m not tempting you with these dumb examples. But I think you get the point.

As long as you do your research, so you know what your prospect really values and wants, you can figure out a way to translate ugly, meaningless cyphers into that other currency your reader actually cares about.

And that can mean more money for you — and everything else that money can buy.

Gratuitous fun to make readers beg for buttermilk

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For the first 20 or 30 years of my life, I had this serious mental defect where I couldn’t enjoy a good bangemup action movie.

“So unrealistic,” I snuffled. “So predictable.” That’s how I wasted decades of my life.

Thank God I’ve grown up. Because I just watched and enjoyed True Lies, James Cameron’s 1994 action comedy, starring Arnold Schwarzenegger as super spy/boring suburban dad Harry Tasker, and Jamie Lee Curtis as his stodgy/talented wife Helen.

The initial reason I watched True Lies was the following famous line, delivered by a used car salesman who’s trying to seduce Helen… and who is unwittingly confiding to Harry about it:

“And she’s got the most incredible body, too, and a pair of titties that make you wanna stand up and beg for buttermilk. Ass like a ten year old boy!”

Which modern Hollywood screenplay would dare have that?

But even beyond the risky dialogue, I was surprised by how fun this movie is. I guess that’s the only word to describe it. For example, as the movie goes on, you get to see:

– an old man sitting on a public toilet, calmly reading a newspaper, during the first shootout between Harry and the bad guy

– Harry riding a horse into an elevator, and an aristocratic couple in the elevator getting whipped in the face by the horse’s tail

– Tia Carrere (the evil seductress in the movie) rushing to grab her purse before the bad guys drop a box with a nuclear warhead onto it

– a pelican landing on a teetering van full of terrorists and sending it crashing off the bridge

– Harry saving the day flying a military jet, perfectly landing the plane, and then accidentally bumping a cop car

The point is that all these details are what I call “gratuitous fun.”

They weren’t in any way central to the action of the movie… and even the comedic part of the plot could have done without them.

They were just pure, unnecessary fun that made the movie sparkle a bit more. And I guess they helped it become the success that it was, netting almost $400 million in 1994 dollars.

I think the message is clear:

This year, surprise your readers with some gratuitous fun in your online content, in your sales messages, and even your one-to-one business communication. People love James Cameron’s movies. They will love your stuff, too. In fact, you’ll make them wanna stand up and beg for buttermilk. Whatever that means.