I grinned when I sat down in the metro but when the doors closed!~

A few days ago, I got on the metro here in Barcelona and I spotted a rare empty seat. I jumped into it, grinning with satisfaction. But in the very next moment, my face sank.

“Oh no…”

A trio of busking musicians — a guitar, a fiddle, and a drum — had entered the metro car right after me. They were getting ready to play and make me listen.

In a panic, I looked to the doors.

​​​They had just closed.

​​There was no escape.

I sighed and settled in. There must be something worthwhile I can get from this, I said to myself. And there was.

The metro started rumbling and the musical trio started their act. A song about love and flowers, from what little I could understand.

Most of the passengers ignored the music and stared at their phones. A few people looked on and smiled. And the guy sitting next to me, he even clapped along silently.

After all, the buskers were singing and playing well.

They kept playing through the next stop. As the stop after that neared, they wrapped up their act.

​​Hat in hand, they walked up and down the car, modestly asking for money.

From where I was sitting, it looked like they didn’t get a single euro cent.

Not a cent. Not from any of the dozens of passengers who paid or didn’t pay attention… not from my clapping neighbor… and not from me, certainly.

Sad? Not sad? Serves them right? The trio made their way to the next car. And they got ready to do the whole act all over again.

​​Now let me tie this up to something you might care about if you are a copywriter or for-hire marketer:

A lot of service providers in this field, including myself at an earlier day, do something similar to those metro car buskers.

They naively think that if they provide a good service – copywriting, ad management, singing and playing the fiddle — then, in a big enough group of random and disinterested people, they are sure to hit upon at least a few who will want to pay for that service.

So these service providers collect a bunch of emails of business owners… they craft the perfect cold email… maybe they even take the time to put on a little song and dance, in the form of a custom sample.

But there’s a problem with this kind of thinking. It doesn’t take into account the disastrous “buying context” that’s working against them:

Prospects who are in the wrong headspace… negative positioning/social proof… technical problems… a suspicious odor of pushiness and neediness… the time, work, and emotional toil of putting on a show, over and over, for people who don’t want to hear it, and who give you no feedback, encouragement, or money in return.

That’s not to say that cold email cannot or will not ever work.

I mean, millions of buskers around the world do well, much better than those guys on the metro.

Just one day after that metro performance, I was sitting in Madrid, and I watched a busking duo — a guitar and an accordion this time — clean up a pedestrian street filled with bars and restaurants. They must have made a hundred euro or more, for about five minutes of playing.

These guys were providing pretty much the same service as those Barcelona metro buskers. But in a different context. With different positioning.

And it’s the same with cold email.

In spite of giving it a good go a few times, I’ve never had success with “standard” cold email, the way it’s talked about online.

But I have had success with cold email a few times, in a different context, with different positioning.

After some thinking, I even formalized this into a system, one I call Niche Expert Cold Emails. And I’ve prepared a training all about it.

And it’s free. ​​

Well, free as in, it won’t cost you one euro cent.

But there is a catch. In case you are curious, you can read more about it here:

https://bejakovic.com/free-offer-niche-expert-cold-emails/

The first frame is the worst frame

I have a fish I’d like to sell you today. It’s not a freshly caught fish.

​​It’s actually been sitting around for 18 months. But trust me, this particular fish has hardly spoiled with time.

​​Today it’s just as tasty and nutritious, well almost, as it was 18 months ago, the day that it was caught.

So are you interested? How much would you pay for this fish?

A lot?

A little?

A negative amount? Would you actually pay me to keep this fish away from you?

One day last week, I got a newsletter email from a marketer. The email started off with something like, “I don’t have a lot of time today. So I’m resending a really good email that I wrote a long time ago.”

​​And then below that, there was the 18-month-old email, looking at me with its dead, clouded, fishy eyes.

Actually, I just assume that that’s how the old email was looking at me. I didn’t even check. As soon as I saw that intro about not having time and about resending an old email, I clicked away.

The point of my message today — the freshly caught fish I am actually trying to sell you — is not to say you should never reuse old emails.

My point is simply to be mindful of how you frame your message. Because often, the first frame that our minds jump to is the worst frame.

I’ve seen beginner freelance copywriters try to sell themselves. They do so by framing their message with an explanation of how they are new in the industry and how they have no experience.

I’ve seen business owners try to sell their products. They start off their sales letters by telling the unremarkable life story that brought them to the moment of sitting down to write that sales letter.

In all these cases — the re-warmed 18-month-old email, the self-defeating self-promotion, the boring and pointless sales letter — the problem is the natural human desire, or perhaps need, to explain ourselves.

Don’t explain yourself. Nobody cares. And it’s hurting your message.

Instead, think of how to frame your message so it has the best chance of influencing your reader.

Trumpet your own authority. Or soothe your reader’s ego. Or if you’re truly selling a fish that was caught 18 months ago, then say this thing is delicious and nutritious — and stop yourself there.

But enough fish-mongering. If you’d like to read my emails regularly, and see how I never apologize for the content I send, then sign up for my newsletter here.