Analogy

Remember, all I’m offering is the truth, nothing more

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A few days ago, I got a question from a reader:

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Hi John,

What are the differences between “most valuable email” and simple money emails”? Thanks!

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Now get ready for the big bland takeaway from this email, which will probably be as familiar to you as the taxes you have to pay:

Facts and figures rarely persuade, and often they don’t even inform.

For example, I could have replied to my reader’s question above by telling him the facts and figures of my two courses — the prices, the main promises, the intended audiences.

But that stuff is literally in the half page of deck copy on the sales pages for the two courses. This reader knows about those sales pages and clearly doesn’t want to read them, or maybe has even read them, but the facts and figures failed to mean much.

So what to do? Because this is hardly one reader asking about my specific courses. This is how most of us act and think and feel most of the time about most things.

Certainly, if you have customers or prospects, this is how most of them are. They will not read the well-researched facts and figures you send their way, or maybe they will even read, but those facts and figures won’t mean much.

One powerful strategy when facts and figures fail is to stop being so damn linear, logical, and thorough, and to instead make your point in an associative, intuitive, non-linear way.

In other words, instead of facts and figures, give people a metaphor. Let me give you an example:

I recently rewatched the first Matrix movie. To my mind, that movie is the richest source of powerful metaphors that’s come out in pop culture over the past 30 years (and longer, probably going back to the original Star Wars movie). It’s well worth rewatching from time to time so you have it close at hand when writing your marketing material.

But back to my reader’s question and the difference between Simple Money Emails and Most Valuable Email.

My best answer is that Simple Money Emails is like the kung fu, the use of semiautomatic weapons, the piloting of the fighter helicopter that Neo and Trinity and Morpheus can own in an instant with the push of a button thanks to their loading program.

These are powerful and practical skills, which look incredibly cool to the uninitiated, but which ultimately anybody can do and profit from very quickly — in the Matrix, to fight and destroy; with Simple Money Emails, to write quick and easy messages that make money and keep readers reading.

On the other hand, Most Valuable Email is like the little bald-headed monk-child at the Oracle’s house in the Matrix, the one who tells Neo that there is no spoon.

Really, at the core of MVE is a similarly simple but profound idea.

It’s not an idea that is meant for everyone, but only for a small group of pre-selected people.

However, if you can accept this idea and make it your own, you can start to bend reality — including both your readers’ reality, and your own.

This makes it so you ultimately don’t need to rely on the email copywriting equivalents of kung fu or semiautomatic weapons or even fighter helicopters, because the ultimate results happen simply via “inner work” of a sort, by just absorbing and repeating the mantra that there is no spoon.

Now, if you are interested in either of these two courses, I bet you still have questions even after this metaphor. But I imagine you might have a better sense which of the two courses is really right for you.

If you’re looking for practical, result-oriented, quickly acquired skills, then it will be Simple Money Emails.

If you’re looking for mastery and a long-term practice that will take you to places you cannot imagine yet, then it will be Most Valuable Email.

You can get your remaining questions answered on the sales pages for the two courses. In the slightly pompous words of Morpheus:
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“I can only show you the door. You’re the one who has to walk through it.”

How to infect customers with the desire to do what you want

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Envy the killifish.

Normally a shy and reserved animal, the killifish is always a bit nervous. It’s always looking left and right, trying to avoid danger and trouble.

It’s not a great way to live.

But for a few days of its life, everything changes for the killifish. It’s suddenly filled with energy and passion. Its fears melt away and it finds itself enjoying the wonder and joy that was always there, surrounding it.

In its new-found optimism, the killifish swims up to surface of the water, splashes in the sun, and even turns its scaly belly to the sky for the pure pleasure of it.

And then, a seagull or some other predatory bird, spotting the shiny belly of the killifish glistening at the surface of the water, swoops down, snatches the killifish, and swallows it whole.

Turns out the killifish had actually gotten infected by the Euhaplorchis californiensis parasite.

​​The E. californiensis gets into the brain of the killifish. It messes with its serotonin and dopamine levels. In this way, it makes the normally wary fish action-oriented and fearless.

And here’s the key point:

The parasite does this not out of spite, and not out of random destructiveness.

Instead, the parasite does it because getting the killifish eaten by the seagull is crucial to completing the parasite’s own complex lifecycle (a bizarre story, one that’s worth looking up).

A couple days ago, I wrote an email about tying in your marketing emails to news items.

I wrote something about princes Harry and William, and about “unity.” Then I stumbled onwards, towards my point and sales pitch.

Honestly, that email was nonsense. It was something I did just to demonstrate the point I was talking about. I would never write an email like that if I were trying to really sell something. I wouldn’t ramble on about a random news item and then milk it for some kind of aimless point.

Because here’s something I’ve learned from the best marketers out there:

The best marketers don’t just tell vulnerable personal stories, or just share interesting news items, or just make mind-expanding analogies.

In other words, they don’t just share ideas or provide changes of perspective for the sake of being helpful, friendly, or educational.

Instead, they do everything — story, news, change of perspective — for the sake of furthering the sale.

Perhaps that’s super obvious to you. In that case, you’re smarter than I am, because it took me some time to realize. When I did realize it, it was a huge mental shift that changed both how I consume marketing and how I produce marketing.

Now, it’s popular in the marketing world to say your marketing should be all about your prospect, and not about you.

And maybe that’s true.

But what’s not true is that your marketing should be about who your prospects are, what they want to become or achieve, and how your product or service can help them get there.

Instead, here’s the key point, once again:

Your marketing should be about what you want your prospects to do, and the beliefs they need to have in order to move in the direction you want them to go.

Maybe that sounds mercenary or even parasitical.

Maybe it is. ​​

And maybe it raises the question, if what you are reading right now is marketing, then what is it I want you to do, and what do I want you to believe?

I’ll leave the question of beliefs hanging for now.

As for what I want you to do, I just have an offer, my free daily email newsletter. It’s for you to decide whether you are action-oriented enough to take me up on this offer. In case you feel that you are, here’s where to go to sign up.

The destructive power of analogy

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Today I’d like to start by sharing an inspirational quote:

“If you feel you’re under-motivated, consider this: the word ‘motivation’ is used only by people who say they don’t have it. People who are ‘motivated’ rarely use such a term to describe themselves. They just get on with the task at hand. ‘Lack of motivation’ is an excuse: it’s giving a name to not just getting the job done.”

I read that in Derren Brown’s book, Tricks of the Mind. Brown seems like somebody I might have become in another life, had I only craved attention instead of shying away from it. And so when I read Brown’s quote, I nodded along and said, “Hmm that’s interesting. Maybe that’s even profound. Hey maybe there’s hope for me!”

Well, it wasn’t really me saying that. It was the little angel who usually sits upon my right shoulder.

“Psst, you there,” said the little devil who usually sits upon my left shoulder. “You wanna go smoke some cigars and drink some hooch? Or do you wanna hear why that D. Brown quote is bunk?”

“Err no,” I said. “This quote is inspiring. Please don’t ruin it for me. I’d like to believe it. Plus it makes sense. After all, if motivated people don’t know the feeling of being motivated, clearly it’s not a real thing.”

“Well let me ask you this,” said the little devil. “Do you know any 9-year-old kids?”

“No.”

“Well pretend like you do. Or just think back to when you were 9. Do you ever remember waking up in the morning after a blessed 10 hours of deep sleep… jumping out of bed… and with a stretch and a big smile on your face, saying, ‘Boy I feel so healthy today!'”

“Oh no…”

“Yeah, that’s right. Kids don’t talk like that, at least not the vast majority, the ones who have been perfectly healthy their whole life. But does that mean that there is no such thing as health? That you can’t be in good health or in bad health? Or by extension, that there’s no such thing as motivation and lack of m—”

“Get thee behind me Satan!” I yelled. But my mood was already spoiled and the quote above was ruined for me.

Maybe I managed to ruin it for you as well. If so, it was all for a good cause. I just wanted to illustrate the destructive power of analogy.

Fact is, Brown might really be right. There might not be any such thing as motivation.

But the fact he tried to prove it in a specific way (“motivated people never use the word”) was easy to spoil with my analogy to kids and health. And maybe, just maybe, your brain made the same leap after that which my brain did.

“Well, health is real… and if health and motivation are alike in this one way… then motivation must be real.”

​​But that’s not proven anywhere.

Anyways, now I’m getting into ugly logic which is really not what persuasion or this email are about.

I just want to point out that, if you want to persuade somebody of something, or if you want to dissuade somebody of something, then the most subtle and often the most persuasive thing you can do is to take two pushpins and a piece of string.

​​Stick one pushpin into an apple. Stick the other into an orange. Tie the string between the pushpins. Make it tight.

And then hold up your creation to the world and say, “Draw your own conclusions! But to me, these two look fundamentally the same! Just look at the string that connects them!”

Anyways, D. Brown does not talk much about analogies in his Tricks of the Mind. That’s his only omission. Because this book really has everything you need to persuade and influence — and from somebody who is both a serious student and a serious practitioner of all this voodoo.

In fact, the last time I mentioned this book in one of my emails, a successful but low-key marketer wrote in to tell me:

John!

Maybe you didn’t get the memo! You can’t tell people about Derren Brown’s “Tricks of the Mind”.

It’s against the rules.

As a friend of mine said, “That’s too much in one book. Don’t give the chimps tools.”

LOL

Well, maybe my mysterious reader is right. So don’t buy a copy of Derren Brown’s book. But if you do want occasional chimp-safe tools from that book, or from other valuable persuasion and influence sources, then you might like my daily newsletter.

A pagan priest’s trick for persuading without being seen

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Lately I’ve gotten a little overwhelmed listening to marketing and copywriting courses, which is something I do during the off-moments of my day. So for a change, I found a course on YouTube about the early Middle Ages. I’ve been playing that when I make my salad or hard-boil my eggs or whatever else it is I am doing for lunch.

Today, I listened to a lecture about early Medieval Britain. And the lecturer read out a passage about a pagan priest, who supposedly argued to his king that the kingdom should convert to Christianity.

Now, if you are doubtful that a pagan priest would argue himself out of a job, I share your doubts.

​​Nonetheless, I thought the priest’s supposed argument was moving and even beautiful:

“The present life of man upon earth, O King, seems to me in comparison with that time which is unknown to us like the swift flight of a sparrow through the mead-hall where you sit at supper in winter, with your Ealdormen and thanes, while the fire blazes in the midst and the hall is warmed, but the wintry storms of rain or snow are raging abroad. The sparrow, flying in at one door and immediately out at another, whilst he is within, is safe from the wintry tempest, but after a short space of fair weather, he immediately vanishes out of your sight, passing from winter to winter again. So this life of man appears for a little while, but of what is to follow or what went before we know nothing at all.”

A sparrow, flying swiftly through a bright and warm banquet hall, as a metaphor for life.

​​How the hell do you come up with something like that? Do you just have to be a poet?

I thought about this for a moment.

I’m sure being a poet helps.

But I realized something rather obvious. This image, of the bright and warm banquet hall, and maybe even a sparrow flitting through it, was something a king of Northumbria would know very well. It would be a daily experience — well, if not daily, at least nightly, on the weekends.

So the point I want to share with you is to make your metaphors something your prospect will know well, and will resonate with.

That’s not my idea. It comes from the book Metaphorically Selling by Anne Miller.

You might think this idea is so basic that it hardly needs mentioning.

But Miller gives the example of a business woman, speaking to an audience of other business women, who peppered her talk with metaphors taken from baseball and football. Unsurprisingly, the talk bombed.

Miller’s advice is to “snapshot” your prospect.

To observe. To do research. To find out his or her life and background. Even things that aren’t related to the problem you are offering to solve.

And then to use that, and not just to inform your sales arguments. But also to shape the metaphors you come up with, so you can subtly persuade your prospect, without him even noticing it. Kind of like a soft bed, which makes it both pleasant to fall asleep, and impossible to tell when it actually happened.

If you found that persuasive, you might like my email newsletter. Or you might not. If you want to try it out, you can sign up here.

Persuasion by nonsense: A case study of Alexander the Great and the magical gold goblet

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Legend says the famously gullible Alexander the Great once visited the kingdom of king Kayd.

As signs of homage, Kayd sent Alexander four unique and valuable gifts. One of the four was a magical gold goblet.

Alexander drank from the goblet, from dawn till dusk.

And each time the goblet ran dry, it refilled itself with cold water.

“How is this magic possible?” Alexander asked in wonder. He looked around at his men. But all he got back were a bunch of shrugs.

So Alexander went to the wisest philosopher of his time.

The philosopher inspected the goblet. He closed his eyes and smiled.

“Think of what happens here as analogous to magnetism,” he said to Alexander. “Magnetism attracts iron. In a similar way, this cup attracts moisture from the turning heavens. But it does so in such a subtle fashion that human eyes cannot see the process.”

“Analogous to magnetism…” Alexander said, mulling over the idea with growing delight. “That makes so much sense!”

No Alex, it really doesn’t. From what we know today, in 2021, about magical self-refilling gold goblets, they do not in any way operate by attracting moisture from the turning heavens. And they are in no way comparable to magnetism.

But you can’t blame Alexander for getting delighted with this explanation.

Because the human brain — yes, even the brain of great men like Alexander — is primed for two things.

The second of these things is drawing connections between unconnected concepts.

This new connection doesn’t have to be “true” in any practical sense. It will still fill us with a sense of delight and possibility.

Of course, this feeling wears off in time. But if you act quick enough, while somebody is filled with that sense of wonder and hope, you can sell them stuff. That’s why analogies, transubstantiation, and metaphors work so well in direct response copy.

“But hold on,” I hear you saying. “If analogies are so great, why aren’t you using one yourself to sell me this idea? Your story with Alexander isn’t an analogy.”

And you’re right. Like I said, the human brain is primed for two things. Analogies tap into the second of these two things.

But the first thing is equally important, and equally powerful. Perhaps you’ve long known what I’m talking about. Or perhaps can figure it out based on the evidence in this email. But if you’re not 100% sure, don’t worry. I’ll write more about it, in an upcoming issue of my magical and delightful newsletter.

How to diffuse a witch hunt and nothing else

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Do you want an ultra-powerful persuasion tool?

Well, you’ve already got it. But you might not be using it to the full. Let me show you why, with an example from The Crucible.

The Crucible is a play about the Salem witch trials. A bunch of girls in Salem turn hysterical and start accusing people around town of being witches.

The local reverend, Samuel Parris, is all for the witch hunt.

John Proctor, a farmer and humanist, is all against it.

Proctor knows the girls are lying. He’s even got one of them to confess in private. And now he’s trying to reason with Parris. How could the best people in town, who have been respected and trusted their whole lives, suddenly be in league with the devil? But the Reverend cuts Proctor off:

PARRIS: Do you read the Gospel, Mr. Proctor?

PROCTOR: I read the Gospel.

PARRIS: I think not, or you should surely know that Cain were an upright man, and yet he did kill Abel.

When I read this line, I thought Proctor’s goose was gandered. How do you respond to that? For one thing, it sounds like solid logic. For another, arguing against it means you’re arguing against the Bible. And not respecting the Bible is a sure sign of being a witch… along with weighing the same as a duck.

But then in the very next line, I was shocked and awed. Because Proctor does respond, and in a way that gets him out of the mess he was in.

PROCTOR: Aye, God tells us that. But who tells us Rebecca Nurse murdered seven babies by sending out her spirit on them? It is the children only, and this one will swear she lied to you.

I thought this was brilliant. In fact, I thought I had hit upon something like the reverse philosopher’s stone. A way to turn gold back into lead. A way to diffuse analogies in general.

My greed glands started working. I could use the Proctor technique both to dismiss other persuader’s analogies… and to make my own persuasion stronger. I’d be rich!

Aye, but no. I tried to generalize what Proctor did above. And after thinking about it a lot, the best I came up with is, “Look close at the analogy and figure out where it breaks down.”

Bah. That’s about as useful as telling a kid to lick faster because the ice cream in his hand is melting. It’s too little, too late.

Because most of us aren’t as quick on our feet as John Proctor. And if you try to engage your System 2 brain in diffusing an analogy, well, good luck. The analogy is already in your head, and it’s done its work.

At least that’s my claim. An analogy is an ultra-powerful persuasion tool that’s almost impossible to resist when used right. It lights up your prospect’s brain from the inside. And it’s above critical judgment.

Perhaps you don’t agree with me. Fine.

So look at what Proctor did above. And figure out how you could do the same in general. And then take your new system… and let me know how well it diffuses the following related idea:

“Most people are like automobiles. They can be pushed or pulled along, or they can be moved to action by starting their own motive power within.”

Have I got your own motive power going? Then steer your automobile towards my email newsletter, because I have many more powerful persuasion ideas to share there.

Free sample: Why you are not “bombarded with information”

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Yesterday, I started reading a book called Metaphorically Selling. It looks promising, but…

The first chapter is all about the NEED for metaphor in sales and marketing. Here’s the gist:

“There is nowhere you can turn to escape the barrage of pitches vying for your attention and your disposable income. Twenty five hundred bids for our attention bombard us daily, from the television, the radio, the newspaper, the …”

How many times have you heard the same “bombarded with information” argument? I guess each marketing book, course, and seminar has to make it at the start, like a doctor putting a stethoscope around his neck to look professional.

I can tell you this:

This argument didn’t make me nod my head in agreement. Instead, it made me think of a talk that copywriter Richard Armstrong gave at AWAI bootcamp. Richard said:

“Nowadays it makes no more sense to say we are bombarded with information than it would be to say that a fish is bombarded with water. No, a fish is swimming in water. He’s living in water. He’s breathing water. To a very large extent, he’s actually made of water. And so it is with human beings and information.”

I probably heard Richard’s talk 3-4 years ago (it’s up on YouTube). I only listened to it once.

And yet, this one idea, that we are like fish swimming in an ocean of information, has stuck with me ever since. It pops up in my mind whenever I hear the cliche claim about being “bombarded by information.”

And if you take a moment to think about what I just said, you will find a recipe for messages that stick with your prospect for years… that pop up in his mind regularly… and that he shares with others, like I just did with you.

But if you don’t want to take the time to figure out the recipe, don’t worry. I’ll write more about it in a book I’m putting together. You can consider the above a free sample of that.

Anyways, the reason I watched Richard’s talk is because I read his own free sample book. And I was so impressed.

Richard is what you might call an A-list copywriter. His free sample book is a collection of his most successful and interesting ads. Along with his funny commentary.

And the best part? Richard’s free sample book is completely different from everything else out there.

Perhaps you don’t believe me. Or perhaps you’re curious. In either case, if you’re the type of person who wants to check things out for yourself, you can take a look at the link below.

But before you go, in case you’d like to take a daily swim in the ocean current that is my email newsletter, you can do that here.

And here’s the link to Richard’s free sample book:

https://www.freesamplebook.com/

The analogy jackpot

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For the past few days, I’ve been staying in a horrific neighborhood at the edge of town. It’s a mess of oversized private houses, thoroughfares, cars, fast food restaurants, shopping malls, and construction.

Now I’m in Europe at the moment, so this is not identical to your typical American suburb.

But if you don’t like the suburbs where you live, and you either prefer the country or the urban center, then perhaps you will agree with me that the outskirts of town are the worst.

I bring this up because yesterday, I read an article with the title, The Growth Ponzi Scheme. It was written by a guy who is lobbying against suburbs and for something he calls “Strong Towns.”

I’m sure he’s got his own inner reasons why he doesn’t like the suburbs. But his argument in the article is that the suburbs are a typical Ponzi scheme.

They were created with the promise of economic growth.

But the cost of maintaining the suburb (roads, electrical grid, etc.) is much more than the taxes and economic growth that come out.

So the only way to maintain the illusion of growth is to dump still more money into building out the suburbs today, which will require still more money dumped in tomorrow.

In other words, it’s a typical Ponzi scheme. And all of us become suckers when this scam finally comes crashing down.

I found this argument exciting for my own personal reasons.

It felt right enough. Plus it’s such a simple and clear idea to hold in my head. And it’s new! I couldn’t wait to share it with you.

Perhaps you see where I’m going with this.

Calling the suburbs a Ponzi scheme is an analogy.

If people haven’t heard an analogy before… if the details fit well enough… and if the overall feel is right… then the result is what marketer Travis Sago calls a braingasm (a breakthrough analogy in its own right).

My point is that persuading by analogy is super powerful. And it doesn’t even have to be “true.”

Yeah, I’m sure the “Strong Towns” guy did his research. I’m sure he’s got numbers to back up his analogy.

Even so, he’s cherry picking just a few details of a very complex situation for his own purposes.

Somebody else, with a different agenda, might give a different analogy instead. He might say that suburbs are like the brick house built by the smartest of the three little pigs.

He might say it’s smart to invest in solid, spacious, and yet connected infrastructure, even if its value is not yet obvious.

But when the Big Bad Wolf of the next pandemic comes knocking at the door… we will see where our friends from Straw City and Backwoods Country come running to.

Whatever. I just made that up. Perhaps you found it convincing. Perhaps not.

No worries in that case. Because that’s my takeaway for you.

Persuading by analogy is like a slot machine. It’s cheap to play a game. In fact, you can mint your own coin with just a bit of thinking.

Of course, the odds of winning any given game are small. But if you keep at it long enough, you will win. And the payout can be huge. A jackpot.

Final point:

If you want to watch me play the analogy slot machine a few more times, you can do that here.

The persuasion moral of the cock and the jewel

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Let’s start with a short story:

“A COCK, scratching for food for himself and his hens, found a precious stone and exclaimed: ‘If your owner had found thee, and not I, he would have taken thee up, and have set thee in thy first estate; but I have found thee for no purpose. I would rather have one barleycorn than all the jewels in the world.'”

If the old English puts you off, I can understand. And I’m sorry. Please don’t keep reading in that case.

If you’re still with me, what would you say is the moral of this story? Think about it, and we will get back to it in a second.

Meanwhile, let me tell you this is one of Aesop’s fables.

Aesop’s fables have been used for thousands of years to give pithy illustrations to situations we’ve all experienced but we don’t have a good and short name for. Like sour grapes. Or the boy who cried wolf. Two more of Aesop’s fables. I bet you know what those two mean.

But what about the cock and the jewel above? To start to answer that, let me first share a quote with you from a book I’m reading about analogies, written by one John Pollack, and titled Shortcut:

“The degree to which an analogy is or is not ‘accurate’ in a given circumstance is irrelevant, it is the feelings and ideas they evoke that makes them so powerful.”

Fact is, we humans love stories and analogies and fables so much that we are really not too critical about them. We accept the implied meaning and we take it for granted.

Of course, that’s good news for persuaders, influencers, and manipulators of all stripes. As one magician of persuasion, Gary Bencivenga, wrote a while ago:

“This process of transferring the qualities of one thing into another takes place instantly, bypassing critical analysis and resistance. All you do is compare A to B in an effective way and voila! your point is made instantly without disagreement.”

There’s good science behind why this is so, but I won’t go into that now, because I am so concerned with the cock and the jewel.

What does this fable really mean?

The best I can do is to point you to an article titled “The Moral of the Story.”

It was written a couple years ago by an actual poet named Anthony Madrid. If the mention of poetry scares you, as it scares me, then I want you to take a deep breath and relax. Because Anthony Madrid’s articles are all easy to read and fun, and they are mind-opening if you’re interested in language.

​​So here’s “The Moral of the Story,” which explains the moral of the “Cock and the Jewel,” or rather, the half dozen contradictory morals that have been scratched up over the centuries:

https://www.theparisreview.org/blog/2018/11/21/the-moral-of-the-story/