Insight Marketing

The “translation problem” of persuasion

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I recently learned about the “translation problem” in persuasion.

For example, if I recommend a movie to you (like I did in my post a few days ago), you don’t really know whether to take that recommendation.

After all, my taste in movies is probably not the same as yours. I might also be recommending the movie for some reason you don’t care about (like learning better storytelling).

In other words, when I tell you a movie is great and you should watch it, you have to translate what that really means for you.

But there’s another way to look at this problem, which is more relevant for every-cent-counts direct marketing.

Specifically, I’m talking about the marketer’s job of translating a message into language his reader cares about, or at least understands.

I gave an example of this in yesterday’s post. In 1983, President Reagan got convinced of the importance of cyber security. A part of how this happened was the format of that persuasive message — a story, as told in the movie WarGames.

But another part of this persuasive message was that cyber security — a non-issue in 1983 — was translated into the threat of nuclear war.

Think about this for a moment. Another story probably wouldn’t have worked. A movie in which a hacker controls a weather satellite for a business man’s evil plans (Superman III, also from 1983) probably wouldn’t have gotten Reagan to take action on cyber security.

So what’s that point here?

It’s the old story. It was financier Bernard Baruch who, according to copywriting legend, summed up what it means to persuade:

“Find out what people want, and show them how to get it.”

Except, there are many situations in today’s sophisticated market where you don’t want to make overt promises. So instead of focusing on the positive outcome, you focus on the negative present. In that case, the real translation problem of persuasion becomes:

“Find out what people are afraid of, and show them how to avoid it.”

But whatever you do, don’t put out a message and hope your reader will translate it into terms he cares about. That’s your job. As copywriting coach David Garfinkel likes to say, “Either you work and get paid, or your reader works and gets paid.”

Do you want more of these kinds of persuasion lessons? I’ve got an email newsletter, where I send out one such essay each day. If you find that it’s not for you, you can always unsubscribe. To sign up, click here.

Persuasion WarGames

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In 1983, nobody cared much about the Internet. The web hadn’t been invented yet. There was no AOL. And 99.9% of Americans had never heard the word modem.

Back then, not even sci-fi movies had a conception of anything like Facebook or amazondating.co. It took a special kind of visionary to see the big future of this new technology — and the possible risks it could bring.

Among these rare visionaries was then-U.S. President Ronald Reagan.

​​One evening at Camp David, Reagan watched a recently released film starring Matthew Broderick, called WarGames. Broderick plays a teenage computer hacker who hacks into NORAD’s missle control systems, and almost sets off WWIII by accident.

A few days after watching the movie, Reagan talked to his generals. He wanted some answers. Is this kind of scenario really possible?

The generals and their minions got to work investigating the topic. After some furious paper folding and shuffling, they came back with a report. “Mr. President, the situation is much worse than you might think.”

To make short tale, Reagan ordered this situation fixed immediately. So the U.S. government and military tightened up their cyber security. Several months later, Congress passed a comprehensive cyber crime bill. It’s still the centerpiece of Internet security law today.

This Reagan anecdote shows the power of a story in persuading. But it’s also an illustration of something more subtle — but just as powerful.

I’m talking about a way to persuade people who don’t currently see any problem with the status quo. This can be used widely to reach unaware audiences, and is a clever way to stir up interest and action, without triggering the brain’s anti-persuasion radar.

But today’s post is already getting as long as the script to WarGames. Interesting note about that script:

It was written by Lawrence Lasker, a family friend of Reagan’s and grandson to Albert Lasker, the “father of modern advertising.” The elder Lasker was the owner of the Lord & Thomas advertising agency, which employed such legendary copywriters as John E. Kennedy and Claude Hopkins.

But like I said, today’s post is already getting long. So I’ll tell you about this important persuasion principle in more detail tomorrow.

But do you want me to send you an email with that update tomorrow? If so, sign up for my daily email newsletter here.

Ramen and the art of good storytelling

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As the detective takes out the handcuffed con artist from the restaurant, a man passes by, running at full speed.

The running man knocks over a passerby but keeps running, all the way home.

His wife is dying. The doctor is there.

The man jumps onto his wife and tries to shake her alive. “Don’t die! We need you! Do something! Sing!”

But the woman doesn’t respond.

“Get up!” the man shouts. “Cook dinner!”

Sure enough, the woman struggles up and stumbles into the kitchen. She starts chopping onions. Meanwhile, a train passes by outside, signaling another story transition.

I’m rewatching a Japanese movie called Tampopo.

The entire movie is about food. There’s a cute central storyline about a woman’s quest to become a great ramen chef. But what really makes the movie sparkle are little vignettes like the dying woman’s last dinner.

There are about a dozen such vignettes throughout the movie, and they transition from one to the other with a light touch.

I think this makes for a good show. And that has something to do with copywriting.

A few days ago, I read an email by copywriter Donnie Bryant. Donnie has a problem with the phrase, “salesmanship in print,” which has been used for, oh, about a century to explain what good advertising is.

That time has passed, says Donnie. Advertising today, copywriting included, is no longer about salesmanship.

Rather, advertising has become “showmanship in print.”

Sure, you need to know the salesmanship basics, going all the way back to John E. Kennedy. But that’s not enough any more.

Instead, look at great films, books, TV shows. See how they engage people and how they tell stories. Start including elements of that showmanship in your own marketing and copy.

If you need a place to start, I recommend watching Tampopo. It might teach you something about storytelling, and you’ll never look at ramen the same way again.

But what if you don’t wanna watch movies with a critical eye? Well, another option is to sign up to my daily email newsletter. I watch lots of movies, and whenever I find a good lesson about storytelling, persuasion, or marketing, I make sure to share it with my readers.

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.

My appeal for your help

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I recently watched a movie called Elmer Gantry, about a traveling salesman who loves hard drinks and fast women.

Elmer lands in a small town in Kansas, where he falls for a preacher woman named Sister Sharon Falconer. So Elmer joins Sister Sharon’s traveling revival meeting, preaching as the “reformed businessman.”

In his first performance, on the topic of “Christ in commerce,” Elmer sermonizes to the masses:

“I was in hell. I knew all the salesman’s tricks. Why wasn’t I rich? Why wasn’t I successful? I opened the Bible, and I read the 18th Psalm. ‘The Lord is my rock and my fortress.'”

Long sermon short, with Jesus’s help, Elmer makes the sale of a bunch of electric toasters. Hallelujah! Biggest deal of Elmer’s life.

It’s a good scene. But what’s the point of it?

Unfortunately, I don’t know.

Over the past week, I’ve watched a new movie each day, Elmer Gantry among them. And while I’ve collected a bunch of interesting scenes like the one above, I still haven’t found what I’ve been looking for.

I mentioned in previous emails I’m putting together a book about insight marketing. I pretty much have all the pieces I need, except for one thing:

A pop culture illustration of “persuading by analogy.”

That’s what I’ve been looking for. But no soap. So I’m appealing to you for help.

I’m sure you know what I’m talking about. Two characters. One is trying to persuade the other. But rational, logical appeals aren’t doing it.

So character one launches into a story or a parable or an extended metaphor. Character two listens, not seeing where this is going. By the end of the story or parable, character two sees how this is an analogy to the situation at hand… he grasps the moral of it all… and he is grudgingly persuaded.

I feel I’ve seen this scene a thousand times in movies and on TV. But now that I want to find a good illustration of it, my mind has locked up, and the history of cinema has been rewritten. After a lot of thinking, digging, and watching, I’ve still got nothing.

So if you can help me out, I’d appreciate it.

Have you watched a movie in the last week? Was there a scene of persuasion through analogy?

Or maybe you know something from a book? An episode of Seinfeld? A famous court case? A newspaper cartoon? A video game?

Anything will help. Just write in and let me know. You will be my rock and fortress.

Speaking non-sexually about reactance and excitement

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I won’t say I’ve never been excited in my life. It’s just never lasted very long.

But let me take a step back.

A couple weeks ago, I wrote a post in which I agonized over the question of, why do people sometimes soak up outside influence like a sponge… while at other times they react to it like prickly porcupines prepping for a fight?

A few readers wrote in with helpful answers. But I still wasn’t 100% satisfied.

And then, while reading a book called the Catalyst, which seems to be a kind of modern-day addendum to Cialdini’s Influence, I came across the concept of “reactance.”

I’ve mentioned this also in a recent post.

Basically, if people feel like you are trying to persuade them… if they feel pushed… and in particular, if they feel you’re getting something out of it… then they have a tendency to become all stubborn and guarded. Sometimes, they will even do the exact opposite of what you want them to do.

Which is probably the most obvious observation in the history of persuasion literature. And it just goes to show what a literal-minded chimp I can be, since I didn’t think of this myself.

Reactance is why, if you got any kind of agenda, your best course is to get your prospect to persuade himself. I’ve written about this repeatedly, and I’m even putting together a book about it.

But here’s another theory I thought of yesterday:

Reactance might also be why enthusiasm works so well in sales copy.

Sure, enthusiasm makes your promises seem bigger and more urgent.

But it also tricks the reader, or allows him to trick himself, into believing he’s listening to a passionate preacher who cannot stop himself from sharing important news… rather than a sly salesman who is using facts to influence and manipulate.

The point being, reactance is another vote in support of getting excited and enthused when you write.

Because you’ve got to feel excited yourself. Enthusiasm is very hard to fake. And if your audience smells you are faking it, then then they get all stubborn and guarded again.

So how do you start feeling excited or enthusiastic for real?

Now we’re back to the beginning. Because enthusiasm is not something I’m good at, not for any length of time. Like Faye Dunaway says in the movie Network, “I arouse quickly, consummate prematurely, and can’t wait to get my clothes back on and get out of that bedroom.”

You know, speaking non-sexually.

So if you got any advice, write in and let me know.

Otherwise, if you’d like to hear more about overcoming reactance, I write about it in my daily email newsletter on occasion. And let me state for the record, I’ve got no ulterior motives in mentioning that, besides trying to persuade you to sign up. If that’s what you want to do, the place to go is here.

Salvation for low self-esteem prospects

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Martin Luther was obsessed with images of the devil’s butt.

Luther was tormented, day after day, by the awareness of his sins and impurities.

He went to confession so often and confessed in such detail that his confessors grew angry.

Had Martin Luther been born today, there’s a good chance he would be diagnosed with obsessive-compulsive disorder, and medicated accordingly.

But because Luther was born in the right environment for his particular kind of crazy, he went on to become one of the most influential persons of the last thousand years.

Point being, a seeming weakness or fault can actually be a tremendous strength — in the right circumstances.

Yesterday, I promised to tell you one way you can convince your prospects that success for them is probable, and not just possible.

This is something I picked up in a talk by Rich Schefren. Rich said that one of the biggest things you have to do as a marketer is increase your prospect’s self-esteem.

And the way to do that is to take something your prospect doesn’t like about himself… and to twist it, so it becomes a potential strength.

“You say you’re obsessed with images of the devil’s butt? That’s actually a good thing. It means you’re on the lookout for moral weakness, which can help you and others from sliding into sin.”

Of course, you’re probably not selling to Martin Luther types.

But with a bit of thinking, you can show your prospect how his procrastination… or shiny-object addiction… or never following through… are just bad manifestations of a good kind of crazy inside him. In slightly different circumstances, the underlying positive characteristics would make him a success.

And how could he change his circumstances in the right way? The path to salvation is quick and easy. It lies in taking you up on your offer.

Here’s an offer that is sure to help you rid yourself of intrusive images of demonic behinds: I write a daily email newsletter. It talks about the fine points of persuasion and copywriting. And if you’d like to keep yourself far from the temptation to slack off in your learning about persuasion and copywriting, then click here to subscribe.

Possible vs. probable in murder and in marketing

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A few days ago, as part of research for a copywriting project, I watched a movie called 12 Angry Men.

There are some spoilers about it ahead. So if you’re ever planning on watching this 1957 classic, it may be best to stop reading now.

Still here?

All right. Then I can spoil for you that this entire movie is about a jury deliberating a murder case.

An 18-year-old kid is charged with killing his father. Did he do it?

All the jurors believe so. Except for juror #8, who has a few doubts.

Over the course of the movie, through some unlikely twists and turns, this one guy, played by Henry Fonda, manages to flip all the other jurors.

The toughest nut to crack is a bull-necked businessman. He refuses to believe the kid shouldn’t go to the chair. After all, what about the woman who saw the kid do it?

And then the following exchange takes place:

Henry Fonda: Don’t you think the woman might have made a mistake?
Bull-necked businessman: No!
Henry: It’s not possible?
Bull-neck: It’s not possible!

Stubborn. Of course, what this last juror is saying is, it’s so improbable it’s practically impossible. And that reminded me of something insightful I heard from marketer Rich Schefren.

Rich was talking about prospects in direct response markets. These markets tend to be filled with people who have repeatedly failed to solve their problem. In time, many of these people conclude that solving their problem is so improbable that it is practically impossible.

The standard marketing approach ignores this. A typical sales letter explains how great the offer is. And then it gives testimonials to prove it.

“It might work for them,” your bull-headed prospect will say. “But my situation is different. It’s impossible!”

So your job as a direct response marketer is not just to show your prospect his problem can be solved. Instead, you gotta give the prospect hope that this time it’s different, and that success is probable, not just possible.

How do you do that?

I can think of a few different ways. I’ll tell you about one of them, which works well for swinging a jury of skeptical information buyers, in my email tomorrow. If you don’t want to miss that, here’s where you can subscribe to my newsletter.

Story-writing tropes and worldbuilding emails

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I want to share two things with you today that can help you with writing, particularly with the structure of your stories.

Thing one:

I’m rewatching the Matrix. In one of the opening scenes, a drive-by character says to Neo, “Hallelujah! You’re my savior, man. My own personal Jesus Christ.”

Of course, he’s just exaggerating. But there are a ton of parallels between the character of Neo in the Matrix and Jesus in the gospels. You probably knew this already, but I’m a little thick about these things, and I take stories too literally.

Anyways, I’m talking about a trope known as “the chosen one.” Besides The Matrix and the New Testament, you can find it in such pop culture sources as the first Dune book, the “Homer the Great” episode of the Simpsons, and even Kung Fu Panda. I found all this out thanks to a useful site I discovered today, called movietropes.org.

Don’t let the name turn you off — it’s not just movies but all kinds of media. A bunch of nerd volunteers break down tons of different tropes, give lots of examples, and link it all together in a wiki. Like I said, might be useful if you write.

Thing two:

A few months back, I wrote an email about the value of “worldbuilding.” Some people wrote in to ask if I had any more resources to share on that topic. I did not. But I do now.

Right now, Andre Chaperon is sending out a sequence of emails titled “Worldbuilding.”

It’s not specifically about inventing made-up marketing worlds. Rather, it’s about how to package up everything you do into a cohesive experience for your prospects. And that’s really the structure behind what worldbuilding, in the more fantastical sense, is all about.

I’m not sure if you can still get on this email sequence because it’s already in progress, and it’s a one-time thing. But if you want to learn about worldbuilding, it might be worth following the white rabbit over to Andre’s tinylittlebusinesses.com and taking the red pill once it’s offered to you.

All right, here’s a third and final resource you might like. Or you might not. It’s my daily email newsletter, where I write about persuasion, copywriting, and story structure. The door to get into that fantastical world is here.

Opening the impossible sale

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A few days ago, after reading a terrible article in The New Yorker, I decided to stop drinking coffee. At least for the next month.

It’s not a giant sacrifice. I was never a coffee snob, and coffee doesn’t do much for my flat-lining productivity.

But I do enjoy getting up in the morning, brewing some cheap coffee on the stove, and then thinning it to hell with cow milk. It’s a small pleasure, but in my life, that means a lot.

Even so, no coffee for the next month. That article spoiled it for me. It told the history of coffee, and it explained how the powers-that-be tricked society into getting addicted to coffee for their own evil ends.

To paraphrase Dave Chappelle, “And all these years, I thought I liked coffee because it’s delicious. Turns out, I got no say in the matter.”

Besides The New Yorker, I’m also reading a book called The Catalyst. The first chapter is all about reactance, which is what happened with me and coffee and that article. But the book gives another and better example of it:

Apparently, back in the 90s, the state of Florida ran one of the rare successful anti-smoking campaigns targeting teens. The ads didn’t tell teens about the harms of smoking. They didn’t tell teens to stop.

​​All the campaign did was highlight the devious ways the tobacco industry used to manipulate kids into getting hooked. As the campaign ran, teen smoking rates dropped by something like a million percent. Eventually, tobacco companies sued the state to get the campaign to stop.

Elie Wiesel said, “The opposite of love is not hate, it’s indifference.” Something similar happens in persuasion and marketing and sales. The opposite of making the sale is usually not objections. It’s simply indifference.

Of course, the best way to deal with indifferent, ambivalent prospects is to never face them. Selling those kinds of people is almost impossible. At least that’s what I thought until I read that stuff about reactance.

People want to have a feeling of control and agency in their lives. If they feel that’s been violated, they get very motivated to change. Even to the point of doing the exact opposite of what they were doing up to now.

​​That’s reactance.

I’d still rather not face indifferent prospects. But if I do have to face them, I know what I’ll do to open the sale. I’ll simply show them how choosing the status quo is not actually their decision, but the work of some puppet master behind the scenes.

Maybe you can try the same. If you so choose, of course.

Finally, here’s some facts that are not designed to persuade you in any way. I write a daily email newsletter. It deals with topics like the one you’ve just read about. The way to get it is here. And I in no way encourage you to sign up for it.