Sticky Messages

Understanding really influential writing

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Let me warn you ahead of time that today’s post is vague and speculative. I’m sharing it because I think the core idea could be very valuable, and maybe you will agree.

​​But if you are looking for a quick tip to improve your conversion rates, you won’t find that in today’s post, so maybe it makes sense to stop reading now.

And now that you’ve been warned, let me jump to the big question:

What’s up with consciousness? It seems to be a trendy question these days. And since I am a trendy person, I clambered onto this bandwagon.

So I just finished reading a book about one theory of how consciousness arises, called The Feeling of Life Itself. The book was written by Christof Koch, formerly a professor at Caltech and now chief scientist at the Allen Institute for Brain Science.

At the heart of Koch’s book are two diagrams. Each diagram shows a network of logic gates, the kind of stuff computers, or human brains, are built of in the abstract.

One diagram shows a network with three gates. The other diagram shows a much bigger network, with 66 gates.

And here’s something non-obvious:

The 3-gate network and the much bigger 66-gate network actually do the same computation. In other words, start with the same inputs, run the thing for a while, and you will end up with the same outputs with these two very different-seeming networks.

How is this possible? Well, the 3-gate network is richly interconnected, with each gate doing double and triple duty. On the other hand, the big 66-gate network is much more linear, with each gate serving just one tiny role.

Rich interconnectivity is why the 3-gate network can punch above its weight, computation-wise.

And it just so happens — so says Christof Koch — it’s also why the tiny 3-node network has some small bit of consciousness… while the much bigger 66-node network has none.

In other words, Koch’s claim is that consciousness is the same as how tightly integrated a network is, and how many distinct roles its elements serve.

​​That’s why certain parts of the human brain give rise to consciousness… while a computer, no matter how fast or smart it gets, will never be conscious.

I can’t judge Koch’s argument one way or another. But I feel there’s something there, because his idea stimulated an analogous idea in my own mind. I think something similar happens in writing and communicating ideas.

Let me show you. Here’s the intro to the 1994 reprint of Marshall McLuhan’s Understanding Media:

“Thirty years ago this past summer Herbert Marshall McLuhan published Understanding Media: The Extensions of Man, and within a matter of months the book acquired the standing of Holy Scripture and made of its author the foremost oracle of the age. Sel­dom in living memory had so obscure a scholar descended so abruptly from so re­mote a garret into the center ring of the celebrity circus, but McLuhan accepted the transformation as if it were nothing out of the ordinary, nothing more than the inevi­table and unsurprising proof of the hypoth­esis that he had found in the library at the University of Toronto.”

How did McLuhan go from obscure scholar to oracle in a matter of months? From the same intro:

“Despite its title, the book was never easy to understand. By turns brilliant and opaque, McLuhan’s thought meets the specifications of the epistemology that he ascribes to the electronic media – non­ lineal, repetitive, discontinuous, intuitive, proceeding by analogy instead of sequential argument.”

So that’s the idea I wanted to share with you.

A textbook and a book of the Bible both convey information. Possibly even the same information.

But a textbook creates no experience, no consciousness in the reader’s brain. A textbook might be useful. But it’s too linear, and that’s why it’s forgettable, and it inspires nothing.

On the other hand, take writing like the Bible or McLuhan’s Understanding Media.

​​These are non-linear, self-referential works, where each passage is doing double and triple duty. ​The more integrated the writing, the more it creates an experience of consciousness in the reader’s brain.

That’s why these books are remembered, absorbed, and acted upon. That’s why they can transform somebody from obscure to celebrity. And it just so happens, that’s why they punch above their weight, influence-wise.

Split-brain persuasion

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Imagine a table in a science lab. At one end is a man dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, smiling and looking around. At the other end is a scientist in a white coat, holding a clipboard.

“I’ll ask you some yes-no questions,” the scientist says. “But don’t answer me in words. Instead I want you to point to YES or NO on this board here. And for each question, I will tell you which hand I want you to point with. Makes sense?”

The other man nods.

“Let’s start then. Right hand: are you at Caltech right now?”

The man points to YES with his right hand.

“Left hand: are you a woman?”

The man points to NO with his left hand.

“Right hand: is chocolate your favorite ice cream flavor?”

YES.

“Left hand: are you asleep right now?”

NO.

“Ok… here’s a more personal question. Right hand: do you believe in God?”

The right hand points to NO.

“Left hand: do YOU believe in God?”

The man’s left hand flies to point to YES. Because the left side of this man’s body, and the right side of his brain, are believers. But the right side of his body, and the left side of his brain, are atheists.

The crazy thing is, this experiment really happened. And so have many other related experiments.

They were all done on patients who had their corpus callosum cut. That’s the bridge between the two islands of your left and right brain hemispheres.

People with a cut corpus callosum do just fine in normal situations. But in a lab setting, you can tease out that they have two brains… two personalities… and two different consciousnesses inside their skulls and skin.

In a person with a normal corpus callosum, these two parts somehow merge. But my guess is these split-brain conflicts remain in all of us, just hidden beneath the surface.

Anyways, now that I’ve told you about the man who might be going to both heaven and hell, here’s the point of today’s email:

According to split-brain research, the right side of the brain responds to images, humor, surprise, and metaphors…

While the left side of the brain responds to facts, argument, consistency, and logic.

So you’ve got to both SHOW and TELL. Because you don’t want the two sides arguing with each other beneath the surface. It might sink your message.

And here’s another tip:

If you’ve tried and failed to persuade somebody before… even though you have a good point… then you don’t need better logic.

The left side is happy hearing the same sound logic over and over.

But you do need a surprising new presentation. It doesn’t have to be logical. It just has to be dramatic. How dramatic? Ideally, heaven-and-hell-type stuff.

Did you find this post enlightening? If you did, then use your left hand to click here and sign up for more ideas and images like what you just read.

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.

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.

How to create a selling style people love to read

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Let’s talk about the infamous Arthur P. Johnson.

I say “infamous” because the man was as unlikely as anyone ever to become a successful sales copywriter.

Johnson graduated from Swarthmore College with highest honors. He then went to Oxford University for a graduate degree. He had ambitions of becoming a poet, and a backup plan of becoming an academic.

Yet, through a chance runin at a bar with a former classmate, Johnson gradually got sucked into the world of direct response. He first worked at the Franklin Mint, writing copy for collectibles (a good education — how do you sell something with no obvious benefits?).

He next worked in product development at another collectibles company. Finally, even though he did not want to write copy any more, he stumbled into freelance copywriting. And that’s when things really took off.

Johnson wrote controls for a number of major publishers, including Boardroom and Agora. He made himself a fortune in the process.

He was so successful he made it onto Brian Kurtz’s Mount Rushmore of greatest copywriters, along with Parris Lampropoulos, David Deutsch, and Eric Betuel.

And here’s the lesson. When Arthur P. Johnson was asked what he attributes his success to, he said the following:

“I think that I’m able to sell products in a more entertaining way than a lot of other people are. I think that being entertaining while you are selling is a big key to success in a very crowded marketplace these days, because you really have to buy people’s attention.”

Johnson did most of his work in the 90s and 2000s. But this lesson, about having to be entertaining to sell, is even more true today than it was back then.

I’m proof of this.

Not with these emails, where I rarely sell anything.

But starting earlier this year, I’ve helped move hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of ecommerce products.

​​I’ve done it by writing emails, much like this one, that tell some kind of story or share a joke or just a funny picture. And those emails most often link to advertorials I also wrote… which contain more of the same — stories, fake personal confessions, and light humor (so I think).

The thing is, I’m not particularly entertaining in real life, or when writing things other than copy. In other words, all this entertainment stuff can be learned by rote.

So how do you learn it?

Two ways:

First, start paying attention to the books, shows, emails, and movies you yourself find entertaining.

Second, read or re-read Commandment IX of my 10 Commandments of A-List Copywriters.

No, this chapter is not a how-to for writing entertaining copy. But it will give you some successful examples of such copy that are running right now.

Plus it will even give you some advice on who and what to study if you want to get better at entertaining in your copy.

And once you start to entertain in your copy, expect people to comment on how interesting your writing is. Expect to have them say how they look forward to hearing from you. And most of all, expect to have them buy — as long as you’ve got anything to sell.

Speaking of which, I happen to have something to sell tonight. In case you don’t yet have my 10 Commandments book, here’s the link:

https://bejakovic.com/10commandments

A three-act election story

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I broke my long-standing rule of not reading the New York Times to bring you the following:

In Povalikhino, a tiny village in the Russian heartland, the incumbent mayor was running for re-election. But there was a problem:

He had no opposition candidate.

According to the NYT article, Russian elections always need an opposition candidate. That’s to make it appear fair, because the ruling party candidate always wins. Well, almost always.

In this case, the political machine went in search of a patsy to run against the mayor. They asked the local butcher, cobbler, and the high school chemistry teacher.

Nobody was willing to get roped in.

Fortunately, Marina Udgodskaya, the janitor at the mayor’s office, finally accepted the role of running against her own boss.

And she won. In a landslide.

Nobody’s quite sure where it all went wrong. But the fact is that the villagers of Povalikhino voted Udgodskaya into office. She now sits behind the mayor’s desk in the office she used to clean. She said her first priority will be to fix the public lighting in the village.

Meanwhile, the old mayor refuses to speak to the media. According to his wife, he never even wanted the job himself. He finds the topic of losing to the cleaning woman painful… and blames his wife. “You got me into this,” Mrs. Former Mayor reported her husband as saying.

I’m not sharing this story with you to illustrate the importance of voting. I’m of the school that voting doesn’t matter (well, unless you’re voting in a village of three hundred people).

Instead, I just thought this was a good story.

It’s got an Act 1, an Act 2, an Act 3. It’s got tension, drama, and surprise.

I bring this up because I often see people telling “stories” in copy that don’t have these basic elements.

“Mayor needs an opposition candidate, but cannot find one. The end.”

“Mayor needs an opposition candidate, gets a local lawyer to run against, and then the mayor wins as usual. The end.”

“Mayor needs an opposition candidate, which is how things go in Russia, for example this other time there was a second election and…”

Those are events, yes. But they are not stories — at least the kind that suck readers in and sell something.

Incidentally, if you want an education in how to write good stories in your copy… you can’t go wrong by reading the New York Times. Not for the facts. But to observe the outrage they evoke in their readers, and for the subtle sales techniques.

Or you can just sign up for my daily email newsletter. It’s not as outrageous as the New York Times. But it can teach you something about sales and storytelling. If you’re willing to take the risk, click here to subscribe.

The ABT’s of writing persuasive stories

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“I was sitting in a park today when I spotted a leggy girl in a blue dress, walking with a certain sashay. And so I ran after her. I stopped her, ready to give her a compliment. But once I was there, face to face, I was no longer sure she was a girl. I wasn’t even sure she was a she. She was taller than I was, and stronger in the shoulder and jaw department. When she started to speak, my suspicions deepened. Therefore, I started looking for ways to gracefully exit from this situation — not so easy to do, because my new blue-dress acquaintance seemed pleased with me and ready to talk.”

I did eventually get out of there and get to the apartment I’m staying in, where I started to read about copywriting. Specifically, I started to read about a way of structuring your stories so they keep readers reading. It’s a simple technique called ABT:

AND – that’s your setup of the story

BUT – that’s where the conflict or complication happens

THEREFORE – that’s the outcome or resolution

If you’re a diligent duck, you can go back and see how I ham-fisted those conjunctions into my park story above. Or just take a look at this next short story:

“An immigrant from a developing country arrives to the US, learns basic English, AND decides to become a professional copywriter. BUT his initial results are underwhelming and he doubts whether he can succeed. THEREFORE he develops his own unique copywriting system, which causes his sales jump 10x, making him the most successful copywriter at a major direct marketing publisher.”

Like my blue-dress adventure above, this immigrant story is true. It is the story of Evaldo Albuquerque, who over the past few years has been the most sellful copywriter at Agora Financial.

I read about the ABT technique in Evaldo’s short book, The 16 Word Sales Letter, in which he lays out his unique copywriting system.

​​I haven’t finished the book yet, so I won’t give you my opinion. ​​But Bill Bonner, the founder of Agora, says, “This is the book I’ve been waiting for.” And Mark Ford, a master copywriter who helped grow Agora to the size it is today, says, “I’m going to recommend this as a must-read to all my copywriting proteges.”

And that’s that. But maybe you don’t know where to find Evaldo’s book so you can see if it’s for you. Therefore, here’s the link:

https://bejakovic.com/evaldo

A VSL lead idea from the Harmon Brothers Agora ad

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I watched the Harmon Brothers Agora video today.

​​You might know what I’m talking about. It’s a humorous, viral-style video by the same people who made the one for Purple Mattress — except this one is selling an Agora stock-picking service.

This video is deadpan because it moves so quickly. I counted 17 jokes — visual, verbal, and physical – in the first 60 seconds alone. That’s a joke every 3.5 seconds, and I might have missed some.

When I first saw this video, I thought it was mostly a ripoff of Will Farrell movies. But I now realize it’s actually inspired by The Simpsons, which had the same rapidfire sequence of jokes.

​​Each joke might not be spectacular in itself. But the jokes are staggered in such quick fashion and edited so tightly that your brain starts to play along.

Unfortunately, the type of humor in the Harmon Brothers video is hard to replicate in writing. Instead, this might be a good way to write a lead, particularly for a VSL in gotta-wow-em markets like bizopp or weight loss. Here’s the recipe:

Take everything you want to say, all your promises, open loops, proof, objections and rebuttals, and write an obnoxiously long lead. Don’t be shy. Then boil it down through merciless editing by at least 10%, preferably much, much more.

The resulting copy will have so much momentum, that even if none of your individual claims or promises is all that unique or impressive or believable, you will simply blitz your reader’s brain into sticking with you through the first few minutes. And that, as they say is, 50% of the battle.

For more rapidfire copy ideas, you might like my daily email newsletter. If you’re interested, sign up here.

What boomers and Tik Tokers crave the most

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A while back, I was listening to a coaching call by top-level copywriter Dan Ferrari. And one of the guys on the call — it might have been copywriter Mike Abramov, I’m not sure — was writing a sales promo for some Agora health affiliate.

You might know how these Agora health promos look: a miracle discovery in the jungles of a remote Pacific island… an FDA conspiracy to suppress a powerful natural cure… long-lost scientific gold uncovered again by accident.

Anyways, the Agora copywriter in question said the following insightful thing:

“People are just really bored, and the one email each day with the curiosity-teasing clickbait is the highlight of their day.”

This ties into something Kevin Rogers of Copy Chief wrote in an email several months. Kevin was talking about the shift from selling to entertaining, and how this is indispensable today as direct response markets shift from the boomer generation to whatever generation comes after the boomers (gen X?).

Kevin says, it’s just as important for a copywriter today to study Quentin Tarantino as to study Claude Hopkins.

I agree. And more people becoming aware of it. But as the Agora copywriter above commented, this is not just if you’re selling to millennials or gen X or whatever Tik Tok-enabled crowd today.

In today’s market, whatever and whoever you sell to, odds are, your prospects are bored. And the sales copy you send them — emails, FB ads, advertorials, long-form sales letters — should be the entertaining highlight of their dreary days. Entertain first, and you might have a chance to sell, too.

And if you yourself need an occasional cure from being bored, I write a daily email newsletter than can help with that. Or it might not. But if you want to give it a try, and see if amuses you to read, you can sign up for a test here.

Story-deaf jerks

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I saw an ad today for a trendy copywriting course.

For the low price of $37, it teaches you “critical plot techniques” and “the secret to creating a protagonist.” In other words, this is a course on storytelling.

I’m sure this course is selling. But I wouldn’t buy it, and I wouldn’t recommend it to anyone else.

Don’t get me wrong. There are people who are excellent storytellers. And there are people who are completely story-deaf. They are the storytelling equivalent of Steve Martin in The Jerk — a white man clapping his hands and stomping his feet in the most off-rhythm, hopeless way possible… while his black family sits on the porch and sings Pick a Bale of Cotton.

But the vast majority of people are not at either of these extremes.

Most people are not, and will never be, Dave Chappelle-level storytellers. But most people can tell a story just fine. It’s an innate human skill, much like blinking your eyes. No need for a course that teaches “7+ story integration strategies” or “How to create a theme for your story.”

Want a storytelling tip worth paying for? Here’s one I got from my ex copywriting coach, a successful and well-paid copywriter:

In many places where you think you need a story, you actually don’t. All you really need is a scene, a snapshot.

Like in the Jerk reference I made above. I could have told you the whole story up to that scene, and included half the movie that follows. But the snapshot was enough.

And when a snapshot is not enough, then two connected snapshots, or three, might do the trick.

Start to think of storytelling in this cinematic way. Soon you won’t need a course on storytelling… any more than you need a course on snapping your fingers to the beat.

Before I go:

I write a daily email newsletter with messages like the one you’ve just read. If you’re interested in copywriting, marketing, or persuasion, you might find it valuable. Or you might not. But if you want to give it a try, here’s where to sign up.