Sticky Messages

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.

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.

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.

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.

Teaching emails that make sales

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I talked to my aunt last night. She’s a kindergarten teacher, and she mentioned that she’s going back to work corralling screaming 5-year-olds.

I haven’t been following the local corona news, so this was a surprise to me.

Sure enough, starting next week, all kids up to grade 4 will be back in classrooms throughout Croatia. “Enough is enough,” frustrated parents must have been saying, and the government eventually caved in.

But here’s the thing that got me wondering:

If spending each day with your kids at home gets tiring for the majority of parents… can you imagine how tiring a teacher’s job must be?

Not one kid… not two… but 25 or more? And not for the next few years until your kids become more independent… but for life, each year the same thing?

And on top of this, teachers don’t even get paid well.

I think it was Matt Furey who first brought this fact up in connection with marketing. He used the fact that teachers don’t make any money to warn against over-teaching in your emails.

Instead, Matt’s advice was to motivate, inspire, and entertain.

I can definitely agree with this. But I would add that teaching can work and it can work well.

The key though is to educate your prospect about his problem, and the specific nuances of why he hasn’t been able to solve it so far.

In other words, don’t tell your prospect HOW to solve his problem… tell him WHY he hasn’t been able to solve it until now.

And then of course, you still have to do some selling. But if you’ve done the teaching bit right… the selling should be easy, because your solution will fit like a hand into your prospect’s problem glove.

I realize I’m contradicting my own advice with the past few sentences. That’s why this email won’t make any money. Not a noble thing, if you ask me. Hopefully, you will be smarter and more disciplined about spilling your teaching — and doing some selling – in your own emails.

How to make your dry expertise sexy and shareable

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A few days ago, I saw a tantalizing clickbait headline, which read,

“Was there PTSD in the ancient or medieval world?”

I clicked and landed on a blog post, which took me for a spin. It turns out there was no PTSD way back when. But that doesn’t matter as much as what I read at the top of the post.

At the top of the post, the author, one Brett Deveraux, gave a recap of the first year of his blog. He started in May 2019. He’s written several dozen posts since then, mostly on ancient military history.

But get this… Deveraux’s blog has had 650,000 visits so far. The number of monthly visitors keeps growing. Each post gets dozens of comments. And Deveraux’s even got 93 Patreon subscribers.

Just in case I am not making the astoudingness of this perfectly clear:

This is an academic historian. Writing on things like PTSD in the Roman army. Who will soon get a million eyeballs on his blog. And who, if he were just a tad better at marketing, could pull in thousands of dollars from his hobby site each month.

Doesn’t this sound like 2010? Is the long tail still alive and well? Does Google have a crush on Brett Devereaux for some reason?

Here’s my theory.

The most popular content on Deveraux’s site, by far, is a series of posts analyzing the siege of Gondor. (Lord of the Rings movie 2, in case you’re too cool.)

In other words, Deveraux used a popular movie to illustrate his arcane knowledge. Knowledge which would otherwise be completely indigestible to the vast majority of people.

This reminded me of another popular content creator I’ve been harping on about. I’m talking about movie editor Tony Zhou. Zhou’s Every Frame a Painting on YouTube has the exact same structure as Deveraux’s blog. An expert in a specialized field, using fun pop culture to illustrate the basics of his craft.

As a result of this pop culture + expert mashup, Zhou and Deveraux had their content massively shared. For Zhou, it was through YouTube and on sites like Reddit. For Deveraux, it seems the nerds at Hacker News really like his stuff.

That’s how both Zhou and Deveraux got all that traffic and engagement.

So what’s the point of all this?

Well, I would like to suggest that this is a model you too could use. If you have any kind of dry, industry-specific knowledge nobody seems to care about, then pair it up with sexy pop culture illustrations. Show a clip from a movie. Then explain what really happened there, seen through the lens of your unique wisdom.

And write me a year after you publish your first post or video. Let me know how many millions of views you’ve had in the meantime. And if you need help monetizing your site at that point… well, that’s where my own dry expertise comes in.

The persuasion moral of the cock and the jewel

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Let’s start with a short story:

“A COCK, scratching for food for himself and his hens, found a precious stone and exclaimed: ‘If your owner had found thee, and not I, he would have taken thee up, and have set thee in thy first estate; but I have found thee for no purpose. I would rather have one barleycorn than all the jewels in the world.'”

If the old English puts you off, I can understand. And I’m sorry. Please don’t keep reading in that case.

If you’re still with me, what would you say is the moral of this story? Think about it, and we will get back to it in a second.

Meanwhile, let me tell you this is one of Aesop’s fables.

Aesop’s fables have been used for thousands of years to give pithy illustrations to situations we’ve all experienced but we don’t have a good and short name for. Like sour grapes. Or the boy who cried wolf. Two more of Aesop’s fables. I bet you know what those two mean.

But what about the cock and the jewel above? To start to answer that, let me first share a quote with you from a book I’m reading about analogies, written by one John Pollack, and titled Shortcut:

“The degree to which an analogy is or is not ‘accurate’ in a given circumstance is irrelevant, it is the feelings and ideas they evoke that makes them so powerful.”

Fact is, we humans love stories and analogies and fables so much that we are really not too critical about them. We accept the implied meaning and we take it for granted.

Of course, that’s good news for persuaders, influencers, and manipulators of all stripes. As one magician of persuasion, Gary Bencivenga, wrote a while ago:

“This process of transferring the qualities of one thing into another takes place instantly, bypassing critical analysis and resistance. All you do is compare A to B in an effective way and voila! your point is made instantly without disagreement.”

There’s good science behind why this is so, but I won’t go into that now, because I am so concerned with the cock and the jewel.

What does this fable really mean?

The best I can do is to point you to an article titled “The Moral of the Story.”

It was written a couple years ago by an actual poet named Anthony Madrid. If the mention of poetry scares you, as it scares me, then I want you to take a deep breath and relax. Because Anthony Madrid’s articles are all easy to read and fun, and they are mind-opening if you’re interested in language.

​​So here’s “The Moral of the Story,” which explains the moral of the “Cock and the Jewel,” or rather, the half dozen contradictory morals that have been scratched up over the centuries:

https://www.theparisreview.org/blog/2018/11/21/the-moral-of-the-story/

Gratuitous fun to make readers beg for buttermilk

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For the first 20 or 30 years of my life, I had this serious mental defect where I couldn’t enjoy a good bangemup action movie.

“So unrealistic,” I snuffled. “So predictable.” That’s how I wasted decades of my life.

Thank God I’ve grown up. Because I just watched and enjoyed True Lies, James Cameron’s 1994 action comedy, starring Arnold Schwarzenegger as super spy/boring suburban dad Harry Tasker, and Jamie Lee Curtis as his stodgy/talented wife Helen.

The initial reason I watched True Lies was the following famous line, delivered by a used car salesman who’s trying to seduce Helen… and who is unwittingly confiding to Harry about it:

“And she’s got the most incredible body, too, and a pair of titties that make you wanna stand up and beg for buttermilk. Ass like a ten year old boy!”

Which modern Hollywood screenplay would dare have that?

But even beyond the risky dialogue, I was surprised by how fun this movie is. I guess that’s the only word to describe it. For example, as the movie goes on, you get to see:

– an old man sitting on a public toilet, calmly reading a newspaper, during the first shootout between Harry and the bad guy

– Harry riding a horse into an elevator, and an aristocratic couple in the elevator getting whipped in the face by the horse’s tail

– Tia Carrere (the evil seductress in the movie) rushing to grab her purse before the bad guys drop a box with a nuclear warhead onto it

– a pelican landing on a teetering van full of terrorists and sending it crashing off the bridge

– Harry saving the day flying a military jet, perfectly landing the plane, and then accidentally bumping a cop car

The point is that all these details are what I call “gratuitous fun.”

They weren’t in any way central to the action of the movie… and even the comedic part of the plot could have done without them.

They were just pure, unnecessary fun that made the movie sparkle a bit more. And I guess they helped it become the success that it was, netting almost $400 million in 1994 dollars.

I think the message is clear:

This year, surprise your readers with some gratuitous fun in your online content, in your sales messages, and even your one-to-one business communication. People love James Cameron’s movies. They will love your stuff, too. In fact, you’ll make them wanna stand up and beg for buttermilk. Whatever that means.

A screeching halt for curiosity subject lines

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A few days ago, my (former) car started giving me serious barney.

Suddenly, I couldn’t change gears properly.

One time, I was in second gear, trying to shift into third.

After a struggle, I got it out of second gear… but instead of third gear, it hopped into first.

Of course, since I was trying to speed up, black smoke shot out the diesel exhaust, the car revved up with a roar, and then slowed down. The exact opposite of what I was trying to accomplish.

I bring this up because right around the time this car trouble started, I sent out an email with the subject line,

“My biggest email mistake of 2019”

It was about how I don’t get much love whenever I use bizarre, curiosity-first subject lines. To which a reader named Andrew responded:

“I’ve noticed similar variations with my own email open rates depending on the subjects. For example, my list really doesn’t like rants, but the same email posted to LinkedIn as a blog post generally does much better.”

Andrew’s definitely got a point.

There are general principles of how to create an effective message, whether that’s an email, a blog post, or a YouTube video.

But much also also depends on the medium and the market.

For example, people are saturated with marketing emails — and they are much more ready to dismiss a weird email. On the other hand, LinkedIn probably has way fewer direct marketers, and something that stands out as a little bizarre might do very well there.

In other words, what works in one setting might not work in the other. Maybe that’s Obvious Adams.

But unless you take the trouble to find out what works where… and adjust your (formerly effective) message accordingly…

Then you might find that the end result is like jamming your car into the wrong gear: black smoke, an unpleasant noise, and a screeching halt.

Blood-sucking Transylvanian copywriting secrets

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For the past week, I’ve been reading a book called The Land Beyond The Forest.

It was written in the late 19th century by a Scottish woman named Emily Gerard, who lived for a good part of her life in Transylvania (a section of today’s Romania). This book was one of the inspirations for Bram Stoker’s Dracula, which was published about 10 years after Gerard’s book.

Anyways, I came across the following passage in the book, which has a lot of value if you’re a copywriter — or just trying to craft sticky messages. Gerard’s writing is in italics and indented, my comments in regular font:

“As in Italy, the recitatore (story-teller), called here provestitore, holds an important place among the Roumanians.”

People love a good story, and they always will. That’s why you should use stories in copy whenever you can.

“The stories recited usually belong to the class of ogre and fairy tale, and would seem rather adapted to a nursery audience than to a circle of full-grown men and women.”

Parris Lampropoulos once said we all believe in magic. It can be overt like these Romanian peasants and their fairy tales… but it’s true even of nerdy and rational 21st century science buffs.

“Sometimes in verse, sometimes in prose, these stories oftenest set forth the adventures of some prince subjected to the cruel persecutions of a giant or sorcerer. The hero has usually a series of tasks allotted to him, or difficulties to be overcome, before he is permitted to enjoy his father’s throne in peace and lead home the beautiful princess to whom he is attached.”

A perfect 2-sentence summary of the hero’s journey, which is one good template you can use to tell a compelling story in copy.

“The tasks dealt out to him must be three at least, sometimes six, seven, nine, or twelve; but never more than this last number, which indeed is quite sufficient for the endurance even of a fairy prince.”

Same thing in copywriting. When you’re giving proof, arguments, or examples, it’s common and effective to give three of the bunch. Plus, if you swap out “task” and put in “bonus” or “premium,” you get the structure of a good offer.

“When the tasks are nine or twelve in number they are then grouped together in batches of three, each batch being finished off with some stereotyped phrase, such as, ‘But our hero’s trials were not yet over by any means, and much remains still to be told.'”

“But wait, there’s more!” Some phrases are so valuable that they keep surfacing across cultures, across media, and across centuries.

“As a matter of course, these trials must always be arranged crescendo, advancing in horror and difficulty towards the end.”

This reminds me of something I heard in a video by copywriter Kyle Milligan. Kyle quoted Agora Fiancial chief Joe Schriefer, who apparently says, “The magic show must always get better!” In other words, the proof must improve, and the results too.

And that, young Nosferatu, is the quote I wanted to share with you.

You probably know this already, but there are predictable ways to get into people’s heads and influence them. Direct marketing copywriters have figured out many of these tricks for themselves.

​​But if you look around, there are other disciplines, or even folk traditions, that can give you good ideas for how to craft sticky, influential messages. And this passage from Gerard’s blood-sucking Transylvanian book is just one good example of that.