Copywriting

A little direct response gem, or a dirty trick?

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Once upon a time, deep in the direct response mines, I found a little gem in two sales letters from Gary Bencivenga.

It reminded me of my childhood tennis coach, who claimed he would wear the same t-shirt four days in a row. One day, the standard way… next day, inside-out… third day, front-to-back… fourth day, you get the idea.

Well, Gary’s two sales letters did something similar.

The first sales letter ran with the headline, “Do you make these mistakes in job interviews?” The offer was a book, Interviews That Win Jobs, for $49.95.

But typical to good DR marketing, Gary’s sales letter also offered several bonuses. Bonus one, How to Answer the 64 Toughest Interview Questions (“selling nationally for $49.95!”)… bonus two, Red Hot Cover Letters… bonus three, Get a Job NOW!… bonus four, Negotiate Your Best Compensation Package.

Then there was a second ad of Gary’s I found.

The headline read, “Job hunting? How well can YOU answer these 64 toughest interview questions?” The offer was a book, 64 Toughest Interview Questions, for $49.95.

But typical to good DR marketing, Gary’s sales letter also offered several bonuses. Bonus one, Interviews That Win Jobs (“selling nationally for $49.95!”)… bonus two, Red Hot Cover Letters… bonus three, Get a Job NOW!… bonus four, Negotiate Your Best Compensation Package.

I don’t know. Maybe Gary wore the other two bonuses inside-out and front-to-back also. I just haven’t found those ads yet.

My point being, if you hit upon a hot market, you can use and reuse your main offer and your bonuses to blitz your market. This way, you can often get more of a response than you would with just one ad and one offer.

And if you don’t use Gary’s trick all at once, you can do what Dan Kennedy calls a reverse:

When your offer starts to flag, take the free bonuses and make that the paid system you’re selling… and take the old system you were selling and break it up into free bonuses.

But maybe you don’t think this is a little gem. Maybe you think it’s a low-down dirty trick… selling people what you used to give away for free… and giving away what you used to charge for.

But what to do? Such is human nature. You have to play these kinds of games if you want people to value what you’ve got. As a clever Spaniard once wrote:

“And as all men know, what costs but little, that we rate but low.”

Here’s something I suspect you will rate but low:

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Drama in your copy? Not like this

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Imagine a fanciful scene, say:

A rough-looking man is walking down the street. He passes a rough-looking woman, who doesn’t mind that people can see her talking to herself (no headphones).

The woman bumps into the man but keeps walking without even a nod of apology.

“Watch where ya going, yea?” the man says.

“Tongue ma fart-box,” she replies with a smile and a little curtsy.

In one leap, the man catches up to the woman and grabs her by the sleeve. “Ya gonna shaw me a bit of respect.” He start to twist the woman’s arm.

But instead of whining or trying to pull away, the woman slams into the man, chest to chest, and gives him a kiss. Straight on the mouth, tongue and all.

The guy is stunned. For a second, he goes with the kiss, out of pure shock.

But then he starts to squirm… and then to scream, mouth closed, with the woman still attached to his face.

Finally, he manages to push her away.

There’s blood on her lips.

The man looks panicked and confused, like he’s just tasted something unfamiliar but awful. He looks down and opens his mouth. A red and bloody pulp of flesh rolls out of his mouth and falls to the ground.

The man staggers back in horror. “Ya bip my pongue off!” he yells.

And in that moment, a seagull swoops down from the solid gray sky, and lands right between the man and the woman. In a flash, the hungry bird picks up the fleshy red pulp off the ground and flies off, while the man looks after it, and after the displaced tip of his tongue, never to be seen again.

So.

​​The question I have to answer now is, why? Why tell you such a pointless and gruesome story?

After all, if I were practicing for a screenwriting workshop, you might rightly tell me to try again. “It’s a little forced,” you might say. “I guess you’re trying to go for some kind of Oldboy violence and bizareness… but it just seems made up and fake. Maybe tone it down. Get some inspiration from real life.”

And there’s my point. Because the above story, bizarre and unlikely though it might seem, is from real life.

It happened on August 1, 2019, in that ancient hub of learning and culture, Edinburgh. I invented the dialogue with the help of Scottish insults dictionary. But the rest of the story is all true, as far as the Daily Mail and the Scotsman would tell me. The aggressive kiss on the street… the tongue that wouldn’t stay put… the opportunistic seagull. All true.

But if this scene happened in a movie, who would believe it?

And like I say, that’s my point. Some things can be true. But there’s a difference between being true and seeming true.

And if you have to choose between those in your sales copy, always go with the seeming true. In your promises… in your case studies… in your warnings.

Yes, you want drama. But you want the kind of drama that movies and TV shows have taught us to expect. Not the crazy shit that happens in real life.

Another gruesome thought:

I write an email newsletters. The emails arrive to your inbox each day, like hungry seagulls. That probably doesn’t sound appealing. But if for some unlikely reason, you like bizarre and occasionally violent content, here’s how to get on the newsletter.

How to get hired without trouble or questions asked

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“Do you have some samples you could send me?”

A few years back, copywriter Dan Ferrari wrote a sales letter for supplement company Green Valley. The sales letter was so successful it sold out the entire stock of Genesis, the supplement Dan was promoting.

But before Dan got hired to do this job, he had to send a few samples to Lee Euler, the owner of Green Valley.

I thought this was interesting. Because Dan was already a very successful copywriter. He had a long list of controls for several financial publishers. I guess Lee, who is an A-list copywriter himself, wanted one final, personal check of Dan’s skills.

Yesterday, I talked about Ogilvy’s famous ad for Rolls Royce.

Well, in the world of direct response copywriting, Dan has Rolls Royce positioning. There are few copywriters out there with his skills and his level of results. That’s why Dan was referred to Lee, who is always looking to hire top new copywriters.

Now here’s how this is relevant to you, in case you’re ever sending over samples to a potential client:

Dan had never written a supplement promo before Green Valley. So he sent Lee some of his earlier financial sales letters. Lee probably looked over these sales letters with his copywriting eagle eye, and he saw what he needed to see. “Looks good. Let’s get to work.”

But that’s Lee Euler, a copywriter with decades of experience, and the guy who wrote The Plague of the Black Debt… and that’s Dan Ferrari, who already had a string of controls at big DR publishers.

Maybe you see where I’m going with this.

A lot of newbie copywriters obsess over creating a portfolio. “What should I put in there? Which niche to write for? What formats do I need to include?”

My personal opinion is this is waste of time and mental energy. Because when you are new, or just not at Rolls Royce level yet, then your samples should be exactly what the client is hiring for right now. And if you ain’t got that, then write it, then and there.

For example, a couple years back I wanted to get a job writing VSLs in the real estate investing space. I knew a company that was hiring, and for this exact type of copy. So I wrote two new leads for their existing VSLs, and I sent that in. I got hired without trouble, with practically no questions asked.

Thing is, I had already written VSLs at this point, and some were successful. But they weren’t for real estate. I had even written a lot in the real estate space, just not VSLs, and not about investing.

Would those square-peg-in-round-hole samples have gotten me the job? I don’t think so.

​​Maybe this will drive the point home:

“At 60 miles an hour the loudest noise in the new Rimac comes from the electric engine”

Never heard of Rimac? They are an up-and-coming electric sportscar maker from Croatia.

Maybe one day Rimac will be as recognizable as Lamborghini or Rolls Royce. But today, a headline like that would make most people just say, “So what?”

Because until you become a known brand that people lust after, you have to spell everything out for your potential client or customer. ​​You have to speak to his exact problems… and make the exact promises he wants to hear… in terms that require minimal, or better yet, no thinking from him.

This applies to selling products, and it applies to selling yourself. Don’t expect you will have an understanding and eager Lee Euler evaluating your copy samples.

Instead, g​ive new potential clients no scope to think you are not the person to hire for this job. Even if they know little to nothing about copywriting. Do this, and you will get hired, without trouble, with practically no questions asked.

Finally:

I write an email newsletter about copywriting and, occasionally, about the business of copywriting. In case you’d like to try it out and see if it fits you, you can sign up here.

Rolls Royce copywriting portfolio

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You probably know the famous Ogilvy Rolls Royce ad:

At 60 miles an hour the loudest noise in the new Rolls-Royce comes from the electric clock

Wouldn’t it be nice to write ads like this all the time?

Wouldn’t you like to simply highlight the classy superiority of the product that you’re selling, instead of teasing people with the amazing secret of the one-legged accountant… or prophesying “The End of America”… or promising a passive monthly income of $5,378… $7,442… yes, even $11,246 — no cash, credit, or skills required?

Well, if that’s what you’re dreaming of, then all I can tell you is, be David Ogilvy. Because even though Ogilvy was a big fan of direct response, this electric clock thing is an ad for a brand.

Back in 1958 when this ad came out, American consumers already knew Rolls Royce well. In fact, they already knew that Rolls Royce was the fanciest car brand around. The electric clock thing was just a dramatic illustration of that.

That’s not to say you couldn’t do something similar in a direct response ad. You just need to have a brand that your audience already knows and likes. Those do exist, at least for very small and tight pockets of people.

But if you ain’t got a brand like this, then you’ll be better off calling out a problem or making a big promise. No cash, credit, or skills required.

But you probably already know this. The only reason I bring it up is in case you’re fresh to direct response copywriting. In that case, maybe you’re wondering why Ogilvy’s ad — celebrated even by Gary Halbert — looks so different than your typical direct response piece.

Actually, there’s a second reason I bring it up.

It’s because it’s relevant to that other newbie question, about creating a copywriting portfolio. Because everything I’ve just told you is basically the best advice I can give to anyone looking to create a portfolio.

Perhaps the portfolio point I’m trying to make is obvious. Perhaps it’s not. In any case, I’ll spell it out in my email tomorrow.

Copywriting: a business or a job?

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I was out of clean underwear, and things were looking bleak.

I was staying in an Airbnb apartment. I put my clothes to wash earlier in the morning.

But halfway through the cycle, the washing machine got stuck. It blinked stupidly. Even though I talked to it and comforted it, it wouldn’t spin or finish the cycle. My clothes, including all my underwear except what I had on, were stuck inside.

I wrote to the owner. “Oh, that’s too bad,” she answered. “My husband will come after work to take a look at it. If he can’t fix it, we’ll call the repairman.” It was 10am.

A few hours passed. I walked by the washing machine and spotted that the floor was wet. The washing machine was leaking somewhere. Water had pooled behind the machine, and was running along the wall all across the room. It even reached the next room, with the hardwood floor.

I wrote to the owner again. “Oh my God!” she said. “I’ll call the washing machine repairman right away!”

The point being, incentives matter. And on that topic:

Today I got paid the second 50% of the biggest copywriting project I have done to date. And so I did a debrief for myself, to see how the project went, and what I could learn from it.

My conclusion was this: I did a good job. I put in a lot of work, I gave the client much better ideas than they had initially, and I delivered solid copy.

And yet:

Will the client actually get value out of my copy? Will they simply send some cold traffic to it, and have the copy make money out the gate? And if not, will they know what to fix and tweak and test?

If I’m being honest with myself, I know there would be a bunch of things I’d have done differently if there were was some revenue share at stake on this project.

I would have taken more control of the project to put this copy into action sooner… I would have pushed back harder against client ideas that I thought were suspicious… I would have insisted on being involved in the project even now, after I’d delivered the copy.

Royalties are a good system. I’ve told my clients this for a while. And if you’re a copywriter, maybe you can do the same, using the same argument I’ve just given you.

And if you need an argument to bite the bullet and actually make this suggestion to your clients, and to even insist on it, then remember Dan Kennedy. “Copywriting is a business,” says Dan. “You have to get paid on the back end, otherwise you just have a job.”

That’s all the motivation I have for you for today. Now for the sales pitch:

I write an email newsletter. Sometimes I talk about the business of copy, other times I talk about copywriting itself. If this is the kind of thing that floats your lancha, you can join the newsletter here.

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

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How do you overcome somebody’s confirmation bias?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Do copywriters have to be funny?

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“That’s the face of every married guy ever.”

Sam Kinison was a former Pentecostal preacher turned standup comic. He was a stout man, with girlish shoulder-length hair, and in the video I watched of him today, he wore a black trench coat on stage. He started off his set in a sweet and quiet tone:

“I’ve been going around the country trying to get as many people as I can not to get married. I’ve been married and I’m just trying to help. Anyone here never been married?”

A guy in the front row raised his head.

“You never been married?” Sam said, his eyebrows rising up innocently. He walked over to the unmarried guy. “Ok, just promise me this.”

“If you ever think about getting married,” Sam said, “remember this face.”

And he started screaming — AAAAAAARRRH AAAAAAARRRH AAAAAAARRRH — the patended Sam Kinison “I’m in hell” scream, right into the poor unmarried guy’s face.

“That’s the face of every married guy ever,” Sam concluded, back in his normal sweet voice.

In my email self-critique yesterday, I criticized myself for missing an opportunity to be funny.

But do you have to be funny if you write copy?

As Dan Kennedy likes to say, you only have to be funny if you want to get paid. Dan even wrote a book all about it, “Make ’em laugh and take their money.”

From what I’ve seen, a few rare individuals can be funny just by being who they are. By being unfiltered or obnoxious or polarizing. Sam Kinison was apparently one of these. According to his brother:

“With Sam, what you saw was what was there. He didn’t exaggerate for the stage.”

But what if you don’t have such an unfiltered personality?

Well, here’s what humor writer SJ Perelman once said. Perelman was asked what it takes to be a comic writer. He responded:

“It takes audacity and exuberance and gaiety, and the most important one is audacity. The reader has to feel that the writer is feeling good. Even if he isn’t.”

In other words, you can fake it. Fake it till you make it… or at least fake it until you’ve finished writing that email or VSL lead or seminar stump speech that’s been sitting and looking at you for days.

And if faking it isn’t working, then go on YouTube and watch some Sam Kinison screaming… or Bill Burr ranting… or Eddie Murphy grinning.

​​These guys will make you feel good for a few minutes. They might even give you some audacity. Just remember this face — AAAAAAARRRH AAAAAAARRRH AAAAAAARRRH

My unflattering email critique to my earlier self

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[I gave myself a harsh email critique recently. It’s for an email I wrote exactly two years ago, which gets a “C” at best. If you want to see why, here’s the original email in bold, along with my comments in brackets:]

SUBJECT: The email that broke the camel’s back

[I’ve found that “play on a popular phrase” rarely works as a subject line, at least to my personal newsletter list. So I would say, force yourself to come up with 10 new subject lines, and use the best of those. But if you insist on the subject line above, then make it more specific and intriguing. Something like, “The sticky sweet email that broke this camel’s back.”]

A while back, I subscribed to the Farnam Street email newsletter.

I’d seen a headline in the New York Times about Shane Parrish, the guy who writes Farnam Street. The headline read:

“How a Former Canadian Spy Helps Wall Street Mavens Think Smarter”

Interesting.

So I subscribed, without knowing too much about what the content I would be getting.

[Only people who really love you will read past this opening. Everybody else will leave. As James Altucher says, you have to bleed in the first line. Options:

– “How a Former Canadian Spy Helps Wall Street Mavens Think Smarter.” Lead off with this and then explain what it’s all about.

– “And that’s when I unsubscribed.” Lead off with the end of the story (below) and then work your way back to explain how it all went wrong.

– Make it into a metaphor. “I only dated the Farnam Street newsletter for a few weeks. In that short time, we had several nasty fights…”]

The first email arrived with a ton of links to important, helpful articles on the Farnam Street blog. I scanned through, but I didn’t read anything.

A second email hit me a few days later, with more helpful content.

Then a third.

And a fourth.

There was nothing wrong with any of these emails. And the content was apparently good — after all, Shane Parrish got a feature written about him in the New York Times.

But none of it clicked with me. It was too earnest, too virtuous, too positive.

[Ideally, make this section more concrete. Give examples of specific emails, and make each example funny or stupid. If you can’t do that for any reason… then make this section shorter. Your copy should never be both abstract and long, which is what’s happening here.]

Finally, I got an email with the headline “Introducing your new favorite holiday tradition” (it was around Christmastime).

I opened it up. It was about a “charming Icelandic holiday tradition” to exchange books and then spend the evening reading them together with friends and family.

That’s when I unsubscribed.

Don’t get me wrong. I’ve got no beef with Farnam Street or their email newsletter. I personally didn’t find the content interesting. On the other hand, a lot of other people obviously get a lot out of the same emails that I unsubscribed from.

[This is a missed opportunity to be a bit funny. You can make fun of the Icelanders and their nerdy tradition… of Shane Parrish and his virtue signalling… or of yourself and your cold Grinch heart, two sizes too small.]

I only bring up my experience with Farnam Street emails to illustrate a point:

It wasn’t that last email that made me unsubscribe.

That was just the straw, or the email, that broke the camel’s back.

All the previous emails had already primed me to open up the “charming Icelandic holiday tradition” email and say to myself, “Oh, hell no.”

This is something to remember in case you do a lot of email marketing.

It’s very hard to assign blame (or praise) to an individual email.

Odds are, it’s the entire email sequence that’s driving readers away — or winning them over.

[This point is worthwhile. But it could be developed further. An easy way to do this would be with another, positive example. “I was on Ben Settle’s list in two separate bursts, for 3 years in total, before I subscribed to his paid newsletter. The last email I read before I subscribed had the subject, “The Myth of Security”… but you can be sure it wasn’t that email alone that made me subscribe. It was those 3 years of cumulative reading.”]

Of course, there are things (unvirtuous and unearnest things) you can do to stack things in your favor early on in the relationship, while you still have your reader’s attention and good will.

If you’d like to find out what some of those unvirtuous ways are, you might be interested in my upcoming book on email marketing for the health space. For more info or to sign up to get a free copy (once it’s out), here’s where to go:

[A couple of points to wrap this up for you and for myself both:

1. Even though this email is weak from a copywriting standpoint, that’s ok. Sometimes these daily emails come out a little undercooked, other times they are dry and flavorless. But the more you write, the more of them turn out fine.

But even if not, so what? A weak daily email still has value. It strengthens your relationship with your list… it cements the central idea in your mind… and it can form fodder for your future emails, two years down the line. So keep writing, or if you haven’t started yet, then start.

2. When you tease something at the end of your email, make sure you write down what you had in mind for the payoff. I’d like to know now what info I was teasing back then… but two years later, I have no idea any more. Time to head over to Farnam Street and see what advice Shane has about improving my failing memory.]

Look at your copy… it should make you cringe

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“‘Bild’ car tester Peter Glodschey compared the new Panda to a ‘shoe box.’ But shoe boxes look nicer.”

In 1999, Italian designer Giorgetto Giugiaro was named “Car Designer of the Century.” Giugiaro designed such icons as the 1961 Aston Martin DB4… the 1966 Maserati Ghibli… and the 1981 DeLorean, which would time-travel once it reached speeds of 88 miles an hour.

But Giugiaro also designed some ugly ducklings. There was the 1988 Yugo Florida… the 1985 Hyundai Excel… and the initial Fiat Panda.

Back in 1980, when the Panda came out, Giugiaro called it the “most enchanting work in my life.” But reviewers weren’t buying it. German magazine Der Spiegel likened the Panda to a “tin gnome,” while Bild called it a “shoe box” (quote above).

You can’t win ’em all, right? But you can learn from your flops, and see how you can improve.

I don’t know if Giorgetto Giugiaro ever did this. But I decided it was a good idea for myself. Because I remember hearing somewhere that if you look at your copy from a few years earlier, it should make you cringe. That means you’re improving.

So I just went through an email I wrote exactly two years ago. My face didn’t lock up from cringing… but the email could definitely be better. So I wrote up a cold and nasty critique to myself, about what needs to be changed, cut, or made sexy instead of grandmotherly.

It was a good exercise. And if you’re interested, I’ll share my results with you tomorrow. Maybe these insights, which come after 2+ years of non-stop daily emails, can help shorten your own learning curve. Maybe they can help you get from “shoe box” to “enchanting work” a bit more quickly.

Learning from my hurt sense of importance

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

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

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

I said no.

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

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

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

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

But that’s not all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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