Insight Marketing

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.

Shorthand and shortcut in direct response copywriting

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Imagine the year is 1999. You are a dentist named Kurt, living in a small town in Pennsylvania.

One beautiful Saturday morning in May, you walk out to your mailbox, and you find a letter. You open it up to see a big headline that reads:

“There’s a new railroad across America”

“And it’s making some people very rich…”

Pretty intriguing, right? So you start to read.

The letter tells you how railroads made huge fortunes in the 19th century. But bankers were afraid to invest, so it was small, independent investors who connected America by rail — and got filthy-as-Johnny-Rotten rich in the process.

Finally, the letter explains what it’s selling:

A few companies are laying down a fiber-optic network to connect America by Internet in the 21st century, much like the railroad connected it in the 19th century. People who invest in the right companies have the chance to get rich like 19th-century railroad barons. Do you want to be among these shrewd investors?

Plenty of people did, back in 1999, when Porter Stansberry sent them this letter to launch his newsletter.

But imagine if Porter had written a slightly different letter. Instead of talking about a railroad, imagine he had used the headline:

“There’s a new goldmine in America”

“And it’s making some people very rich…”

This is pretty similar to the original. Another metaphor. Would it work just as well?

It’s unlikely. Here’s a relevant quote by one Linda Berger, a law professsor at UNLV:

“A reader who is asked to interpret a novel metaphor will be engaged in the creation of meaning, while the reader who is confronted with a conventional metaphor will do nothing more than retrieve an abstract metaphoric category.”

Stansberry’s “railroad” is a metaphor for an investing opportunity. Odds are, you’ve never seen this metaphor before.

A “goldmine” is also a metaphor for an investing opportunity. Odds are, you’ve seen that plenty of times before.

And that’s the difference Berger is talking about.

When you give people a novel metaphor, they start turning it around in their brains. They map aspects of the metaphor to their situation. So “railroad” becomes “Internet”… “tracks” become “fiber-optic cable”… “independent 19th-century investor” becomes “me.”

But what if you give a reader a conventional metaphor like “goldmine”? If Berger is right, and I suspect she is, then the reader says, “Oh, they must mean this is a big investment opportunity.” And if that turns your reader on, then he continues to read.

In other words, a novel metaphor is a shortcut between where your reader currently is… and where you want him to go mentally.

A conventional metaphor is shorthand. It can be useful to quickly express a concept in a few words. But it’s not gonna create any new insight.

Remember my post from yesterday? It turns out both Gary Bencivenga and Mark Ford were right. Cliches have their uses, and their limitations. And now you know why — and when to use shorthand, and when to create mental shortcuts.

Speaking of shortcuts, I write a daily email newsletter about persuasion. The way to sign up for it is here.

Cliches: Shooting fish in a barrel? Or yourself in the foot?

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Here’s a tough nut to crack:

Gary Bencivenga was a collossus of direct response copywriting. His sales letters made his clients hundreds of millions of dollars. On the topic of cliches, Gary had the following to say:

“I love clichés, and you should too! They are clichés precisely because everyone already believes them, so using them gives your copy greater credibility.”

Now here is a second quote, this one by Mark Ford. Mark is also an expert copywriter and a very successful marketer. Among his other ventures, Mark helped grow Agora from an $8-million-a-year company to a billion-dollar company. About cliches, Mark once wrote:

“Although everyone can relate to these expressions, they’ve been said so frequently that they’ve been stripped of their power. They no longer communicate profound ideas. And they don’t inspire people intellectually. And that’s why cliches are killers in direct mail. They make your copy seem obvious and predictable. […] Remember, as a copywriter, you’ve always got to keep your prospect from getting ahead of you. If he can anticipate what you’re going to say, he’ll assume he knows what’s coming — and you’ll lose him.”

So who’s right?

The most successful direct response copywriter of all time?

Or the direct response marketer who has overseen more promotions than probably anybody else?

Not to beat a dead horse… but like most things in the universe, the question of cliches is not simple or one-sided. Cliches have their place. But they also have their limitations.

I know that’s clear as mud. So I’ll give you the latest research on what cliches can do — and cannot do — in my email tomorrow. If you want to get that info before anybody else, click here and subscribe to my email newsletter.

The hottest girl on an empty beach and other ways to sidestep competition

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I went for a walk this morning next to the sea, and I saw the most amazing girl.

Let me set this up by saying the tourist season hasn’t started yet. The town I’m in is empty except for the locals. There were a few people walking dogs in the morning, but there was nobody, absolutely nobody, on the beach.

Except her.

The early morning sun lit her up from the side. She was in a bikini, standing in the water up to her ankles. She seemed to be testing out the temperature and questioning her resolve to dive in.

I walked by, spellbound. A man coming towards me seemed equally absorbed — he was staring and his jaw was hanging open.

Now if you asked me what this girl looked like, I’d have to say she was between 15 and 35 years of age. She had hair on her head. She was not visibly obese.

Beyond that, I can’t say much. For one thing, I couldn’t see her all that well. For another, I was so blinded by the fact that she was the one and only girl for a mile up and down the beach, and probably, in the entire town.

The point of this is the value of being in a marketplace of one.

Of course, one way to be in that lucky position is to find a group of people who aren’t being served by anybody else — the equivalent of an empty beach town before the season starts. That definitely works, but there might be drawbacks. There’s a good chance your prospects will be slack-jawed oglers. And there will be inevitable competition as the season heats up.

But there’s an alternative. It allows you to create a marketplace of one for yourself, even in the face of ostensible “competition.”

I’ve talked about this already a few times. It’s a trick known as helping your prospects experience a moment of insight.

There’s a lot more to be said about this topic. So I won’t do that here. But I am putting together a book about it. If you want to get notified when it comes out, click here and subscribe to my email newsletter.

Limitless persuasion value inside this blog post

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The first time Eddie Morra sees the magic pill, he is sitting in a bar, across from his ex brother-in-law.

“You know how we only use 20% of our brain?” the brother-in-law says as he points to the pill. “This lets you access the other 80%.”

The brother-in-law used to deal drugs. Now, he promotes this secret new nootropic, which gives users a superhuman IQ. He’s offering a sample to Eddie for free.

But Eddie shrugs. He doesn’t want the magic pill.

“Don’t be ungrateful,” says the brother-in-law. “Do you know how much this costs? $800. A pop.”

So Eddie takes a second look. And he scoops up the pill and puts it in his jacket.

The above is a scene from the 2011 movie Limitless. And it illustrates a sad fact of a persuader’s life. Many times, people won’t listen to you. Even when you clearly lay out the benefits your offer will provide them.

So it makes sense to do what Eddie’s brother-in-law did. Present a good offer… and then tell people the value of what they are looking at.

But let me tell you something even more valuable. This isn’t just a useful trick to grow the number of prospects who take up your offer.

Nope. This is also an instance of a fundamental pattern of persuasion.

Persuading people is often a two-step process. Show AND tell. Story AND lesson. Benefits AND the benefits of those benefits.

Phew. Do you know how much value I’ve just given you? Such much value. You could even say… limitless.

I’m not sure I can keep delivering value at this break-neck rate. So if you want to see me fail, click here and subscribe to my daily newsletter.