Insight Marketing

Why you’re not getting anything done

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“What do you want me to say?” I snapped.

My mom gave me a call yesterday. “What’s your plan for today?” she asked.

“I’m trying to work,” I said, “but I’m not being very productive.”

That was a mistake. Because it was really an invitation for my mom to ask me the worst possible question:

“Why do you think that is?”

I’ve written before about Tony Robbins. I’ve learned a lot from the guy. Perhaps the most valuable thing was the power of asking the right questions.

It really works.

By asking myself the right questions, I’ve made my way out of seemingly impossible situations, by doing less and by having more fun than I would ever have believed possible.

And vice versa.

By asking the wrong questions, I just agitate and muddle the mess I am already in. It starts to feel hopeless.

“Why do I think I’m not being productive? Let’s see… because I’m lazy? Because I’m frustrated with the project I’m working on? Because I feel the deadline looming… because I worry that I will miss it… and because I’m not strong enough to control my own brain, so this is turning into a self-fulfilling prophecy? What do you want me to say?”

Well. I didn’t say most of that stuff. But I was thinking it, while biting my lip. So I told my mom I would talk to her later, and I got back to staring at my half-complete, frustrating project, head in hands, wondering where it all went wrong.

Because asking WHY primes your brain to focus on failure and shortcomings. And while that might sound smart, it’s actually a bad way to spend your energy, and unlikely to do anything to move you forward. So don’t do it if you’re trying to be productive.

BUT!

Focusing on WHY is a great thing to get your prospect to do. Particularly if you have a new answer to that question.

As I’ve written before, a new answer to “WHY do I always fail” can allow you to “get one up” on jaded, hostile prospects who think they are too smart to fall for your marketing. And if you do it right, you can even become a star in your niche.

I won’t lay out the whole case for you here. That’s because I’ve written about this topic in detail already. You can find it as Commandment VII of my short book, The 10 Commandments of A-list Copywriters. In case you’re interested:

https://bejakovic.com/10commandments

Tom Cleveland continues his productive NYT snooping

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How do veterans of #vanlife feel about all the newbies? Can you make a statement about your gender, when there’s no one there to watch you? And is that “maskne” on your face, or is it plain old acne?

In case you want answers to any of these questions, head on over to the New York Times website. As I write, these stories are all up on the home page.

A guy named Tom Cleveland has been snooping on the Times. I wrote about him a few weeks ago. Through his snooping, he discovered how the NYT makes its headlines more dramatic through A/B testing.

Now Cleveland has put out a part two to his research. It’s about which stories linger on the Times digital front page. And the breakdown is this:

News: 46.6%
Opinion: 22.2%
Feature: 31.1%

“Categories and numbers, huh?” Let me translate what I think this means.

“News” you’re probably familiar with. “U.S. Adds 916,000 Jobs in Sign of Surging Labor Market.” No thrills there.

“Opinion” is a little more fluid. It includes hard-hitting editorial such as “The unsettling power of Easter” (also on the NYT front page right now) as well as the “If a gender falls in the forest” piece above.

And then there’s “Features.” This is apparently an industry term for pure fluff — your typical #vanlife and maskne pieces.

So adding up Opinion and Feature, we get that the NY Times shows this type of content 54.3% of the time on its front page. In other words, this is most of what they show — because it’s most of what people want to see.

Please believe me:

This is not my ant-sized attack on the elephant that is the New York Times. Instead, I just want to point out that people always want human-interest stuff, first and foremost.

If you’re in the business of feeding people whatever, just to sell subscriptions and ads, they you might as well stick to fluff or tabloid content.

On the other hand, perhaps you have an important message to share with the world. But you worry that your topic puts people to sleep. Or gives them a headache.

Don’t worry. It’s an easy problem to fix. Just wrap your dry, complex topic in a thick human-interest sandwich. People will happily devour it, all the way to the end. ​​Here’s an example from an email I wrote last year:

“It’s a story of family betrayal… of breakthrough ideas, conceived in prison… of a small group of desperate visionaries who took an almost occult science… and combined it with a strange, untested new technology… to create the foundations of an industry worth over a quarter trillion dollars.”

Do you know what that paragraph was about? It’s about dry, technical topic. Namely, direct marketing, told through the colorful characters who dun it — Claude Hopkins, Gary Halbert, Ken McCarthy. And if you want to know how that story developed, you might like to sign up to my very human-friendly email newsletter.

Persuasive vemödalen

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I’m staying in a beautiful coast town these days so I just went for a walk along the shore. The sun was shining, the trees were doing their thing, and the sea, a few cliffs below where I was walking, was shuffling restlessly from side to side. I got tempted — for just a moment — to take out my phone and take a picture.

“But what’s the point?” I told myself.

Because I realized a long time ago that the only time I think to take a picture is when I come across a scene that looks like pictures I’ve seen before.

“Gee, this looks just like a postcard. Better create another postcard myself!”

If you love to take pictures with your phone, my point is not to razz on you. Instead, I just want to point out, in case you feel like I feel — that so much photography is repetitive and redundant — that there’s a word for this.

The word was coined in 2014 by a guy named John Koenig. ​Koenig called this vague intuition many of us have probably had — he called it vemödalen.

​​So now, when you and I talk to our friends, we can call this feeling by its name and we can communicate it to others. We have a handle on it, and it’s much more real in our minds. (Well, it would be, if we could only remember the word vemödalen and know how to pronounce it.)

Before you start thinking I’m getting sentimental, let me turn things around to hard-core direct marketing. Specifically, something marketer Travis Sago shared once in a podcast, about how he does email marketing:

What’s different and what I found works really well and takes a lot of lifting off the writing is bringing out what symptoms do they have, what symptoms are they seeing or feeling or hearing in their life? What is he saying? What’s happening in their life and starting out with the symptoms.

[…]

I’ll have to admit, some days I’m just brain dead and I’ll just go with the problem. But it’s way more powerful to go with the symptom.

What Travis doesn’t say in this quote is that when he talks about a symptom, he will often focus on a “new” symptom. Not new in the sense that it just popped up… but new in the sense that nobody else has talked about it, and even his prospect might not have a conscious awareness of it.

​​Even better if you can give it a name. Kind of like vemödalen. That’s what Travis does — and he manages to convert something like 25% of his list over time.

But speaking of unnamed symptoms:

Do you know that feeling when you’re nearing the end of a novel, and you start to feel a bittersweet angst, knowing that the characters you’ve made friends with over the past weeks will disappear from your life? I checked, and it’s called lithatonophobia.

The good news is, you never need to feel lithatonophobia at the end of one of my blog posts. Because I write a new email each day with new marketing and copywriting content. And if you’d like to keep that in your life, here’s where you can join my newsletter.

Guilt deflection

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Here’s a powerful persuasion tactic for your copy and private life. Let me illustrate it with a dramatic scene from the Seven Samurai, in which the samurai find the farmers’ hidden stash of armor and weapons.

A bit of background in case you haven’t seen the movie:

A poor village is being strangled by marauding thieves. So the farmers hire seven samurai for defense. The samurai aren’t getting paid much, but they agree because of the honor of defending the poor helpless village.

And then they find the hidden stash of armor and weapons.

How did the farmers get it? There’s only one way. They must have killed and robbed to get it. And they killed and robbed retreating samurai.

Six of the seven samurai are disappointed and angry. Then the seventh samurai, Kikuchiyo, played by Toshiro Mifune, starts to fume.

“Well, what do you think farmers are? Saints?”

Nooo, he explains. Farmers are cowards who lie, cheat, pretend to be oppressed… and yet they have hidden stores of food where you will never find them.

“They are the most cunning and untrustworthy animals on Earth,” Kikuchiyo says.

And then, he suddenly stops.

“But who made animals out of them? You!”

The other samurai are stunned. How are we to blame, they seem to say.

“Each time you fight,” Kikuchiyo explains, “you burn their villages, you destroy their fields, you take away their food, you rape the women and enslave the men. And you kill them when they resist.”

And then Kikuchiyo falls to his knees and starts to sob. It turns out he is not really all that samurai… he also comes from a farmer family.

Anyways, the point is that in the movie, this works. The samurai accept the farmers for what they are, and they stick around to defend the village.

I call this guilt deflection. It’s a powerful technique to use in your copy.

Because where there’s trouble, there’s guilt being assigned. As I’ve written before, in the copywriting space, that guilt is often directed inwards.

People feel there’s something wrong with them… that they are the ones to blame for their ongoing unsolved problems.

You can’t just skip over that. If you do… if you jump straight into your promise and how great it will be to finally get there… you will just make your prospect disappointed and maybe angry.

So here’s what to do instead.

Yell at your prospect. “Yes, it’s true! You are the most cunning and untrustworthy animal on Earth. But who made you that way?”

And then deflect your prospect’s guilt. Give him an explanation that shifts that guilt somewhere outside him. To other people… to institutions… to ways of doing business.

And like I said, this can work in your private life, too. I learned this from a friend who told me the best way to deal with a woman’s accusation is to accuse her of something in turn. I tried it and… well, I guess that’s a story for another time.

Exploiting the disorder spectrum for marketing mischief

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About ten years ago, Dean Burnett went on TV and invented a new psychological disorder.

The background of the story is this:

Some English TV channel was making a documentary about personality quirks. So they invited Burnett to say something, since he is a neuroscientist with a diploma to prove it. At the end of the segment, they asked if Burnett had any personality quirks of his own.

Burnett was stumped. He had nothing to report really. But he didn’t want to disappoint under the glaring lights of a TV studio.

So he told a personal story about baking a potato, and he turned it into a condition.

Burnett was once baking a potato in the oven. He sat in the kitchen, reading a book, occasionally checking the potato. It looked so lonely, Burnett thought, all alone in the large oven. So he popped open the oven door and threw in another potato to keep the first fella company.

Back in the TV studio, Burnett concluded:

“I only found out later I’ve got what’s known as lonely potato syndrome.”

It was meant as a joke, or something like it. But it took on a life of its own. A crew member in the studio took Burnett aside later. “I might be suffering from lonely potato, too.” The show producer confided the same. Burnett says that now, years later, he still hears of people who feel afflicted by this condition.

In case I’m not making it clear, these people are serious. And they are concerned, or at least intrigued.

And here’s where I want to tell you my idea of a disorder spectrum:

On the one extreme of this spectrum, you’ve got genuine insights.

Some smart and caring person spots that a bunch of symptoms tend to go together. This gives hope for a common cause to it all, and maybe a common treatment. So this smart and caring person gives it a name — attention deficit disorder, shiny object syndrome — and puts it out into the world for people to be aware of.

But then there’s the other side of the spectrum. It’s something I heard marketer Will Ward speculate on a few days ago. It’s where you name a new disorder or syndrome, with no insight, research, or value to back it up.

When Will brought up this idea, I didn’t think it had legs. Not without some kind of real substance. But the Dave Burnett story changed my mind. It seems a new name, along with a bit of authority, is all you need to create a disorder out of thin air.

So where do you take this?

That’s for you to decide. Maybe you can just create a harmless identity for your followers. But it certainly seems like this could open the door to marketing mischief. At least in the hands of the right person, suffering from “uncertain identity” disorder.

Don’t know about uncertain identity disorder? It’s something I discuss in more detail in my email newsletter. But you’ll have to sign up to find out more. Here’s where to do that.

Stop reading this blog unless you want to march in my army

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How do you overcome somebody’s confirmation bias?

That’s something I found out today in a provocative article titled the “Curation/Search Radicalization Spiral.”

The article tells the story of a 13-year-old Jewish kid from Washington D.C. who became a true-believing moderator of an alt-right subreddit.

The story itself is less interesting than it sounds. What is interesting is how Mike Caulfield, the author of the article, explains how this kind of “grooming” happens.

How could a Jewish kid from a liberal family be persuaded to join a far-right community, made up of people who are often hostile to Jews?

And more broadly, how is it possible to overcome somebody’s confirmation bias… and implant ideas that were once inconceivable?

I won’t repeat Caulfield’s entire argument here. But the gist is the idea of gradual curation. Here’s how it works:

1. A person (the mark, for short) goes to a subreddit or a Facebook group or somebody’s blog.

2. There he gets exposed to a curated claim. This is a claim that is carefully selected, provocative, but not threatening to his world view.

For example, the 13-year-old above was accused of sexual harassment by a classmate. So maybe he came across a claim on Reddit that said, “Study in Cambridge Law Journal reports up to 90% of rape allegations are false.”

3. At this point, the mark is intrigued but also a bit cautious. So he goes on to verify the claim for himself by doing a quick Google search. There it is, “Rumney, Philip N.S. (2006). ‘False Allegations of Rape’. Cambridge Law Journal. 65 (1): 128–158.”

4. Mind is blown. Now the mark is ready to repeat the process one level down… with another curated but more provocative claim, which gets him closer to the alternate reality.

None of this is news to marketers. Curating facts is what good direct response copy is all about, and Gene Schwartz wrote about “gradualization” back in 1966.

There are even copy tricks to simulate verifying something yourself. But maybe it’s a bit tasteless to give you a step-by-step here, since we started by talking about the radicalization of a 13-year-old.

So instead, let me tell you what I personally get out of this. It might be relevant to you also:

The upshot for me is to avoid curated content as much as possible. That means turning off social media… news sites… and I hate to say it, newsletters like mine.

Because everybody has an agenda. And if you give somebody a freeway into your mind that’s open 24 hours a day, every day, it gets harder to resist that agenda.

You start being groomed… and the next thing you know, you might be marching in somebody else’s army, fighting somebody else’s war, fully convinced it was your idea all along.

Learning from my hurt sense of importance

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I had a run in with the police two weeks ago.

They stopped me on a dark and abandoned road. They frisked me. They rifled through my wallet. They opened my box of takeout food and sniffed at the dumplings inside.

In the end, they gave me a fine. “Would you like to pay now?” they asked.

I said no.

They seemed surprised. “Then you have five days to pay at the police station. Otherwise you won’t be able to travel or leave the country.”

I’m telling you this story because it illustrates Dale Carnegie’s first rule of dealing with people. Carnegie says, never criticize, condemn, or complain.

When the policemen stopped me, I was pretty sure I wasn’t doing anything wrong. But when they gave me the fine, I became 100% sure I wasn’t doing anything wrong. The policemen were being arbitrary and stupid, and I could prove it. Or as Carnegie says,

“Criticism is futile because it puts a person on the defensive and usually makes him strive to justify himself.”

But that’s not all.

Because I never did pay the fine. “What can they do to me?” I reasoned.

I pictured the two cops checking their police computer, day after day… seeing my fine not being paid. In my fantasy, they shook their heads in frustration. “All that work we put in… for nothing!” A smile spread across my face.

But I also imagined getting stopped at the airport when it was time to fly out. I imagined being taken to a small windowless room, with those two same policemen waiting for me.

It made me nervous for days. But no matter. I would spite myself and not pay the fine — just to spite the stupid and unjust police.

And that’s part two of Carnegie’s argument against criticism:

“Criticism is dangerous, because it wounds a person’s precious pride, hurts his sense of importance, and arouses resentment.”

This applies if you’re talking to people one-on-one. And it applies to your copy also.

Some copywriters — particularly when starting out — try to be edgy and insult or mock the prospect. Like this weight loss ad that started:

“ATTENTION ALL FAT PEOPLE! DOES YOUR GARBAGE MAN DELIVER INSTEAD OF COLLECT, AND THEN YELL ‘CHOW TIME!?'”

Don’t scoff. That radio ad was written by a young and cocky Gary Halbert. It pulled in a grand total of 3 sales after thousands of dollars of ad spend.

Of course, your prospect might really be in the wrong. He might be the one to blame. But if that’s what you want to make him see, don’t say so.

Only do it indirectly. For example, by telling him a cautionary tale of somebody else making a similar mistake. Otherwise, your prospect might spite himself — even if he might want your product otherwise — just to spite you.

Hopefully your sense of importance is still in tact. And if you’d like to subscribe to my email newsletter, here’s where to go.

How to turn good copy into great copy

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For the past several weeks I’ve been milking content ideas from a recent interview I heard with A-list copywriter Parris Lampropoulos. And I ain’t done yet. Here’s another valuable story from the same:

Once upon a time, while Parris was still getting his copy sea legs, he apprenticed under Clayton Makepeace.

Parris would write some copy. He’d submit it to Clayton. Clayton would fix it up, and the submit it to the client.

The clever thing Parris did was to ask Clayton for the final drafts. He’d go through and compare what Clayton had changed to the original he (Parris) had submitted.

As Parris got better and better through this process, there were fewer and fewer changes.

Until one time, there was only one change.

It was in a bit of copy that Parris had written about part-time jobs for people during retirement. One of these jobs was to be a mystery shopper. And it could earn you as much as $50,000 a year.

Pretty good, right?

Yes. Good. But then Clayton made it great, by adding a few words along the lines of:

“Imagine, $50,000 a year — just for going shopping!”

Parris said that Clayton was a natural-born persuader. And one powerful thing he did instinctively was help people “grasp the advantage.”

That’s a term from Vic Schwab’s book, How to Write a Good Advertisement. Schwab said you first show people an advantage… them you prove it… and then you help them grasp it.

You can do this grasping part in a bunch of different ways.

Clayton’s example above is of the form, “You’re doing X anyways, so why not get Y benefit?”

But there are many others. I spelled out a few of them to my email subscribers.

What? You’re not subscribed to my email newsletter? But you’re reading my stuff anyways, so why not get the full story, with all the lessons laid out on a platter for you? Here’s where to subscribe.

The breakthrough from the first time Parris Lampropoulos met Clayton Makepeace

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Parris Lampropoulos once told a story about the first time he got to hang out with one of his mentors, Clayton Makepeace.

At this time, Clayton was one of the most successful freelance copywriters in the world. He had a list of controls longer than a giraffe’s tail. And he was pulling in over $1M a year, back when that was Hollywood money.

In part, Clayton did it by having a stable of talented junior copywriters, including Parris, working under him.

So at one point, Clayton invited the copywriters working for him out to Lake Tahoe. And it was a sight to see.

Clayton was staying there at the presidential suite at a ritzy hotel… getting pampered with massages and facials… eating out at the fanciest restaurants… and picking up the tab for his guests.

Generous.

And for Parris, a breakthrough.

Because at that time, Parris had already been a freelance copywriter for several years. He said he knew intellectually that a freelance copywriter could make Clayton-levels of money… but he still didn’t feel it deep inside.

He needed to see it with his own eyes, in order to make it a reality in his own life. Which is exactly what happened — in the months and years following that first in-person meeting with Clayton in Tahoe.

I bring this up because:

1) It might be useful to you if you are also hoping to reach Hollywood levels of success, and because

2) On a psychological level, your prospect is the same as Parris was back then.

Your prospect might know intellectually what you’re trying to convince him of… but odds are, he still doesn’t feel it deep down.

That’s why the most common writing advice is to show and not tell. And that’s why the most common copywriting advice is to use stories and demonstration. Because these are the most powerful tools you have to drive home a point — even one your prospect has heard a million times — and finally make it real.

And then, you can make your pitch. For example:

I have an email un-newsletter, where I talk about not new, but still valuable, fundamentals of persuasion and marketing. If you’d like to subscribe, here’s where to go.

Intuition pump

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Let me share a fictional story I just read in an anarchist copywriter ezine:

One morning in a certain November, a man named John Bejakovic walked out onto his driveway and down to the mailbox.

All around, the street was empty, as it had been for days. His neighbors, like most people around the world, were in a panic, and stayed out of the open as much as possible.

Each night, experts on the teletron warned of unusual bursts of cosmic gamma rays. The experts said these gamma rays could cause serious DNA damage. And while some people seemed to handle the gamma rays just fine, others suffered for weeks with strange symptoms. Still others died.

John opened his mailbox. Among the usual junk mail — magalogs from Boardroom and Phillips Publishing — he saw a thin white envelope. He recognized it immediately. It was an occasional newsletter John was subscribed to, written and published by an expert in persuasive communication.

As always, on the top of the white envelope, in large black letters, there was a “teaser.” This week, it read:

“AN HONEST MISTAKE?”

John walked back inside, magalogs under his arm. He tossed the magalogs into the trash, sat down on the couch, and ripped open the envelope.

“I’ve been warning you all year long,” the newsletter started. “The world is finally starting to realize that the Great Gamma Ray Hysteria is nothing more than a seasonal flareup of space radiation. The question is, how did we get here?”

The newsletter then went into a bunch of reasoned arguments. John scratched his head, and scanned over the remaining pages. Expert opinion… statistics… data. Not only was this whole gamma ray thing not real, the newsletter argued, it was purposefully fabricated.

“Yawn,” John said out loud, even though nobody was in the room with him. “How could an expert in persuasive communication write something like this?”

John tossed the newsletter aside, and grabbed an issue of the New Yorker from the coffee table. He was in the middle of an article about philosopher Daniel Dennett. The article picked up:

“Arguments, Dennett found, rarely shift intuitions; it’s through stories that we revise our sense of what’s natural. (He calls such stories ‘intuition pumps.’) In 1978, he published a short story called ‘Where Am I?,’ in which a philosopher, also named Daniel Dennett, is asked to volunteer for a dangerous mission to disarm an experimental nuclear warhead.”

“Now that’s what I’m talking about!” John said, slapping the page. He rushed to his writing desk and got out a piece of paper. “I’ll show him,” he said out loud, even though there was nobody else in that room either.

Hey it’s me again. I mostly wanted to share this fictional story because the main character has the same name as me. What are the odds?

But the story gets increasingly pornographic after this point, so I won’t bother reprinting it verbatim.

The gist of the action is that the guy started to write a letter to the persuasion expert. He wanted to complain about the boring newsletter. But he ripped the letter up because he realized he was making the same mistake of trying to make his point through argument.

So instead, he wrote a short story about unicorns, and about an evil wizard who poisons their meadow. He published his story in Teen Vogue, where it went viral, and wound up being read verbatim on the Dr. Oz teletron show.

What nobody realized is that the story was just an exercise — a trojan horse to make the same point about the gamma rays, but in a more persuasive way.

And after the story was read on Dr. Oz, people around the world had a mass change of heart and started walking out onto the streets again. And you can imagine how that went, with all the surging gamma radiation raining down from heaven.

Anyways, like I said, a fictional story. But I had to share it just because of the coincidence of the name. And who knows, maybe you can draw some value out of it.

Speaking of newsletters, I’ve also got one. It’s email, not paper, and it arrives every day, not only occasionally. Here’s the optin.