Copywriting

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

What I learned from copywriting

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Copywriting pays for my food, my plane tickets, and my collection of black t-shirts.

Back when I had an apartment, it also paid for my rent.

Copywriting allows me to work on a Saturday, if I so choose, and skip Monday through Wednesday.

It’s put me in touch with multimillionaires and even one billionaire.

It’s exposed me to strange new worlds, such as beekeping, billboard wholesaling, and penis enlargement.

But that’s kids’ stuff. Where copywriting really impacted me, where it changed me in ways I didn’t expect, is the following:

A. It taught me to read.

David Deutsch said, “If I had to do it all over again, I wouldn’t read 50 books one time each; I would read 10 books five times each.”

Other famous copywriters say the same.

So I reread books now. And I find mucho stuff in there that I didn’t see before. My brain changed in the meantime.

Also when I read, I’m much more careful. I keep stopping to ask myself, “Is this interesting? New? Useful? Could it be useful if I combined it with something else I’d read?” It’s slow and it’s work. But it’s a better use of my time than flying through text and not getting anything out of it.

B. It gave me a real acceptance of the moist robot hypothesis.

Scott Adams says we are all “moist robots”:

“Humans are wet robots that respond to programming. If you aren’t intentionally programming yourself, the environment and other people are doing it for you.”

This sounded outlandish when I first heard it… then amusing… then interesting… then believable… then obvious. Copywriting provided me with plenty of real-life examples. There might be something more inside of us, some capacity for experience and reflection… but most of what we do is moist robot.

C. It exposed me to the Gene Schwartz sophistication/awareness models.

This is so valuable whether you’re writing copy or doing any other kind of communicating. It can be summed up with the idea of starting where your reader/prospect/adversary is… But how do you do that? Schwartz’s models tell you exactly.

D. It taught me the low value of secrets.

And also the low value of supplements. And the low value of opportunities. In general, through copywriting, I’ve developed a suspicion of anything new being advertised for sale.

E. It taught me the enduring power of listicles.

For getting attention. Not necessarily valuable attention. Which is why I used the headline “What I learned from copywriting” instead of “5 things I learned from copywriting.” As Mark Ford said recently:

“If you want to get cheap readership, listicles are great. But they don’t do a good job selling anything, or getting serious attention, or creating a fan out of the reader, especially at higher price points.”

F. It taught me how to get rich.

I’m not sure if I ever will be rich. But I might.

Through copywriting, I’ve had an amazing business education. I’ve gotten to look behind the curtain at dozens of successful enterprises. I’ve found out exactly how they get their customers… what they sell to these customers… and how they keep selling more.

Maybe one day, I’ll turn that knowledge into actual success. Speaking of which, let me repeat something I wrote a few months back:

​​”Perhaps success is simply about choosing a field where you don’t mind getting better. Where the daily work is something you find enjoyable enough — or at least, not too repulsive — so you can continue to get better at it day after day.”

Copywriting is not my passion. I don’t have any passions.

But I don’t mind the daily work, and sometimes I even find it enjoyable. And that’s something I never thought would happen.

Maybe you’d like more articles like this. In that case, you can keep browsing this blog… or you can sign up for my daily email newsletter.

Suggestion: “Play rabbit” in your copy and one-on-one dealings

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Rabbits can pretend to be healthy even when sick. They can mask it so well that they go from looking perfectly normal in one second to dead on the floor the next.

In other words, rabbits can cover up their neediness.

​​Neediness is when you feel threatened, and you enter survival mode. All of God’s little creatures, including you and me, experience neediness now and again, whether real or imagined.

The next time you feel needy, I’d like to suggest that you “play rabbit.”

​​In other words, suck it up and cover it up. Because being seen as needy makes you also look weak, vulnerable, and desperate. That’s not the profile of someone that people want to shake hands with, in business or in private.

I was reviewing a Frank Kern VSL today. It was for a big launch he did a few years ago for his Inner Circle coaching program.

​​I don’t know whether Frank was desperate for this launch to succeed. The VSL certainly doesn’t make it seem so.

Except for some fake urgency (a timer above the VSL), there’s not much pressure to buy. No “You need this NOW.” No “You’re at a fork in the road.” Instead, there’s just a voluptuous, sleepy-eyed seductress of an offer, lazily smiling at you and showing off her many attractions.

I’ve written already about my 3-sentence method for applying for copywriting jobs. It involves no friendly banter, no big life story, and certainly no explaining or apologizing.

Back when I applied for copywriting jobs, this method worked great. And one big reason is that I didn’t look needy, regardless of how I felt. (By the way, if you want more on this, I wrote up this article about it.)

My point is that, in your copy and in your one-on-one dealings, don’t telegraph your neediness and vulnerability. If anything, do the opposite. Play rabbit. Don’t let anyone know what’s going on inside your beating little chest.

But perhaps the above examples didn’t convince you. So let me leave you with the words of the godfather and midwife of modern advertising, Claude Hopkins.

For his first advertising job, Hopkins had to sell 250,000 carpet sweepers. I don’t know what a carpet sweeper is, but apparently it was an important but unsexy household product.

So Hopkins wrote a straightforward letter to dealers. It outlined why his product is unique. It listed conditions in case the dealers wanted to sell it.

Take it or leave it.

So what was the result? From Hopkins himself:

“I offered a privilege, not an inducement. I appeared as a benefactor, not as a salesman. So dealers responded in a way that sold our stock of 250,000 sweepers in three weeks.”

One last point:

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The secret psychology of giving up

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This is a brontosaurus:

Hello I am Brontosaurus

But let me give you the back story:

Yesterday I saw a question from a struggling copywriter. He says he’s put in the time and effort. But he’s not getting the reward.

He’s not swamped with client work… he’s disappointed by the money he’s making… and he’s not even hearing a kind word or two about a job well done.

This brought to mind a presentation I saw once by billion-dollar copywriter Mike Palmer.

Mike works at Stansberry Research, an Agora imprint. He wrote The End of America VSL, which brought in many millions of simoleons for Stansberry.

So Mike gave this presentation called The Secret Psychology of Becoming a Great Copywriter. The upshot is, there will be times when you feel you suck.

Mike drew a graph to illustrate the natural changes in skill/suck levels. It’s pretty much the brontosaurus up top:

Hello I am Annotated Brontosaurus

Point A is when you get started, full of optimism.

Point B is when you realize it will be harder than you thought.

Point C is the moment of crisis and despair. At this point many people give up.

(I just want to say I am all for giving up. There’s no shame in it if you ask me, and I suspect most people who champion blind perseverance haven’t tried to do much in life. I’ve given up often, and with very few exceptions, I’ve never looked back.)

But if for some reason you don’t give up, then you eventually move to point D. That’s where you improve and rise above your previous level.

This is not a one-time thing, by the way.

It’s happened to me over and over since I started writing copy for money.

For example, last year around this time, I thought I was pretty good at this whole thing. I then joined Dan Ferrari’s coaching group. After getting some feedback from Dan, I realized I still had big things to work on.

A month or two later, deep into a project, the feedback kept pouring in and getting more significant. I thought “Jesus, why do I need this? I’m obviously not meant to write sales copy.”

But I stuck around, finished the project, became better at the craft, and eventually got my rewards.

Like I said, this has happened to me over and over. I expect it will happen again.

Perhaps if you know this, it will make it easier to progress to point D once you hit that hollow, right at the bottom of the brontosaurus’s neck.

Or perhaps not. Perhaps you’ll look up, squint… well, let me stop there.

When I wrote this article and sent it out to my email newsletter subscribers, I ended on a personal note, about giving up. But I limit those things on this public blog. In case you want to get on my email newsletter, where I don’t hold anything back, click here to subscribe.

Gary Bencivenga’s “disinterested” way to create proof and get attention

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I read a confession today by a former employee of a shady solar company.

This guy reports the company used to print out fake ID badges for its salespeople.

The salespeople were then told to focus on houses with “No Soliciting” signs out front. After the door was open, they were supposed to claim they “worked with the power company” in order to get in to start their pitch.

And here’s where it gets dark:

The guy says he and every other salesperson knew full-well the savings from solar depended on government tax credits.

And yet…

They pushed these same savings as given — to senior citizens. Who weren’t paying much in taxes. Who couldn’t benefit from a tax credit. And who wound up getting saddled with a massive loan, which they couldn’t afford.

Now back to the ethical world of direct response marketing:

I used the story above in an email today, to a large list of buyers of money-saving ecommerce products.

At the end of that email, I said how I’m passing this story along as a warning. And that if they want to get the money-saving benefits of solar, they can. But they might have to bypass solar companies and power utilities and government tax credits. Then I linked to an affiliate offer that shows them how to do this.

A-list copywriter Gary Bencivenga said that proof is the most important element of copy when it comes to closing the sale.

He also said that acting as a consumer advocate is one powerful way to create proof.

It makes you seem disinterested… it demonstrates you know what you’re talking about… and if done right, it can even capture attention.

Sounds good.

But it begs the question, where do you get riveting consumer advocacy stories that go beyond what everybody already knows?

Well, I have my own private little methods of digging up such stories. I don’t share them in public… but I have shared one of them today with the subscribers of my email newsletter. In case you want to get on my newsletter, so you get more posts like this, with nothing held back, click here and follow the instructions.

Specializing on the cheap for new copywriters

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A few days ago I saw the following question on a copywriting forum:

“Just starting out. How niche is too niche? I know that the more niche you are, the more high-paying clients you’ll get. But if you’re too niche, then wouldn’t it be hard finding target clients?”

When I was starting out, I had the same question. Largely because I had heard the same advice — you gotta niche down if you want to be successful.

Here’s my attitude about this topic, now that I’ve emerged on the other side of the newbie-to-successful-copywriter underwater passage:

If you’re just starting out, then you should be in the exact niche that the job you are applying to is in.

For example, when applying for a job to write case studies for a medical clinic, you say, “I specialize in writing case studies for the healthcare market. Here are two relevant samples.” (If you don’t have the samples, write them then and there.)

The point is you don’t have to mention that you also specialize in finance, tech, and pet food… and that you will also write emails, sales letters, and supplement packaging copy.

The time to genuinely specialize — meaning you would actually turn away work because it’s not something you want to do — comes later, when you have some experience… when you know what the market wants… and when you have an idea of which way you want to develop. Or as Mark Ford wrote in Ready, Fire, Aim:

“It’s almost always better to get into a new industry on the cheap by figuring out how to test the waters without committing yourself to an unproven idea.”

Not what you were hoping to hear? Then you probably won’t be interested in joining my daily email newsletter.

The George Costanza method of client seduction

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There’s an episode of Seinfeld where George Costanza, the fat short bald loser who is always making up exciting careers for himself to impress women, realizes that everything he has done in life has lead to failure.

Desperate, George takes another tack.

He goes bizarro. He does the opposite of whatever he would normally do.

George starts by ordering the opposite lunch from what he normally gets. He then notices an attractive woman looking at him from across the restaurant.

Bizarro George decided to get up and go talk to her — because normal George never would.

“Excuse me,” George says to the woman, “I couldn’t help but notice you were looking in my direction.”

“Oh yes I was,” the woman explains. “You just ordered the exact same lunch as me.”

George takes a deep breath.

“My name is George. I’m unemployed and I live with my parents.”

The woman turns to face him fully, her eyes sparkling and a smile spreading across her face. “I’m Victoria. Hiii…”

Chris Haddad said in a recent interview that if you are a freelance copywriter, then you should be constantly going on Facebook, bragging about how great you are, and sharing all of your successes and testimonials.

That’s one approach. It can definitely work.

But there’s another approach. It’s when you seek to not impress. Instead, you give clients reasons why you are not a good match for them. You refuse to talk about your experience and successes, or at least you put it off as long as possible.

This is nothing more than a page out of Jim Camp’s negotiation system. You’re looking for a no. More importantly, you are eliminating any neediness that’s typical when freelancers talk to clients.

Very likely, this approach is not right for you.

But if you find that the typical advice of confidence and bragging has lead you to failure over and over… then this bizarro George approach is worth a shot. Because it can work, and not on just on TV.

Here’s another thing that is very likely not right for you:

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How to “remember” your way out of the hard labor of writing

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Samuel Coleridge awoke from a deep opium slumber, grabbed a pen and paper, and scribbled down three stanzas that he says he composed in his dream.

At that moment, an unidentified person from Porlock interrupted Coleridge.

Once Coleridge made it back to his pen and paper, he found that the visions had vanished and he couldn’t complete the poem he had started.

The poem that Colerdige had written lingered unfinished for years, when at the suggestion of Lord Byron, it was published under the title Kubla Khan. It remains famous to this day, some two hundred years later.

Meanwhile, “the person from Porlock” has entered the lexicon as an unwanted intruder who disrupts inspiration or a moment of creativity.

If you ever struggle to write something, there’s a lesson hidden there in the story of Coleridge’s Kubla Khan. At least I think so.

I personally often write by “remembering” the finished product — before it is written.

Of course, this is a complete trick and a lie. But it works for me. It might work for you too. Here’s what to do:

Basically, instead of outlining or writing what you have to write, you pretend you’ve already written it. It’s there vaguely in your memory, as though you dreamt it.

So you grab a pen and paper, or more likely your laptop, and start furiously writing down whatever you can remember.

If you’ve already forgotten some part, just leave some XXXs to be filled in later.

The key is to get as much of your structure and individual words down as you can before your poem — or your sales copy or whatever — disappears into the darkness of the night.

And of course, beware of the person from Porlock. Any kind of distraction — whether checking your mail, doing a bit of research, or picking up your phone — can kill your visions. And then you are left with the hard labor of writing, instead of the easy act of remembering what was already written.

Do you think this was a useless suggestion? In that case, you probably won’t be interested in signing up for my daily email newsletter. But in case you are interested, click here and face the window that magically appears.

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.

Read this now because fake urgency

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“This offer will be taken down on Monday August 17.”

That was the threatening notice at the top of the video sales letter.

But it was already well into September. Some technical glitch made it so the page didn’t update to show the date of the upcoming deadline.

As you probably know, deadlines work. Bob Cialdini told us about urgency, but marketers knew about it for decades before.

Thing is, most deadlines are fabricated. Some are more fabricated than others — like the VSL I mentioned above.

I’m not sermonizing that you should only use “real” deadlines and real urgency. But sometimes it’s easy to do so, and it doesn’t require any tech wizardry.

For example, I once wrote a VSL for a kidney disease info product. Kidney disease is chronic, meaning it lasts a long time, and only gets worse.

So at the end of the VSL, I didn’t tell the reader this offer might soon disappear because powerful interests will force the FDA’s hand. Instead, I simply said the following:

But I want you to make this decision now.

You see, kidney disease is much easier to treat the earlier you start to do it.

It’s easier to treat in stage 2 than in stage 3, and it’s MUCH easier to treat in stage 4 than in stage 5.

Look, the information I’m sharing in [product name] will probably be mainstream advice 10 or 20 years in the future.

But you can’t wait for that.

Every day and every week counts, and the sooner you get going, the better your results will be and the better you will feel in the long run.

That’s why I offer this money-back guarantee, because I want you to give this a shot as soon as possible without any risk to you.

I’ve used this same urgency appeal successfully for other health offers, too.

And I think you can try the same argument — the longer you wait to fix this problem, the harder it will get, so why not take up this risk-free offer now — in any aware market. You might not make as many sales as with a fake deadline play… but the quality of the customers will probably be much better.

But here’s some real urgency:

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