Copywriting

Yes more scrubs

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I recently learned of a successful real estate guru who partners with you, even if you’re a scrub.

That means he teaches you what to do… provides you with office support… gives you tens of thousands of dollars to fund your deal… and then splits any profits with you.

Sounds good?

It is. But here’s the monkey wrench:

He also charges you a hefty upfront fee so you can become his partner.

I mentioned yesterday the idea of “success share” in direct response businesses. So far, this real estate guru is the closest I could find to that.

I thought about what a pure “success share” direct response business would look like, without a hungry hippopotamus of a fee up front.

I imagine it wouldn’t be recognizable as a direct response business any more.

Just to be concrete, let’s take the example of a business that trains would-be copywriters. How would that work if it were based on a share of results that customers get… rather than an upfront fee?

Well, instead of being a factory for constant new offers, I imagine it would look more like the startup incubator Y Combinator, or like Goldman Sachs. It would work to attract the highest performers, the people who would succeed regardless of which system they go through. And it would ignore everybody else.

In this hypothetical “success share” world, 99% of direct response businesses would vanish.

Because most direct response businesses need scrubs, just like most strippers need tips. It’s what pays the bills.

But like in a strip joint, this doesn’t mean the average direct response customer is getting nothing for his money. Keep this in mind if you’re trying to sell something. You’re selling hope… entertainment… even companionship. Results can be valuable, but they come after those more important things.

Speaking of important things:

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Weapons-grade copy that carries a wallop

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Most rocks on earth contain 2 to 4 ppm of uranium. The worst that a uranium-bearing rock can do is split your head open.

But take many tons of rock, and cook it down to nothing. What you get is “weapons grade” uranium-235. Less than a kilogram of that stuff was enough to wipe out Hiroshima and about 80,000 people.

I bring up this gruesome fact to show you the power of distillation.

​​I started this email with a draft of 200 words. I’ve managed to cut it down to about 100. Because as John Caples said:

“Overwriting is the key. If you need a thousand words, write two thousand. Trim vigorously. Fact-packed messages carry a wallop.”

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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.

Easier, more powerful prospecting: Thinking like Jay Abraham

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Back in 2006, Jay Abraham, aka “The 9 Billion Dollar Man,” interviewed Michael Fishman, aka “The World’s Greatest List Broker.”

I randomly came across a transcript of this interview a few days ago.

The interview was messy. Jay Abraham had to keep running to the toilet to pee. And he was talkative. For much of the interview, he riffed ad hoc while Michael, who was supposed to be the one sharing his expertise, just kept saying “um-hmmm.”

And yet, while it’s messy, this interview is pure gold.

It’s gold because of the unique insights Michael Fishman has about the psychology of direct response buyers. But the thing I want to share with you today is something Jay Abraham said, right at the end.

Because the whole purpose of this interview was to create a kind of calling card for Michael Fishman. A thing that demonstrates his knowledge and insights, that he could use to drum up new business.

So at the end, Jay Abraham, who might be world champion at spinning up lucrative business ideas, gave Michael two pieces of advice on what to do with the interview.

The second and I suspect less valuable piece of advice was to find potential clients, write to them and say, “A lot of people told me this tape opened up their eyes and made them a bunch of money, thought you might like it.”

This is good. It’s what many businesses, including many direct response businesses, are doing in essence.

But I think it pales in effectiveness to the first piece of advice that Jay gave Michael.

And that was for Michael to go to everybody he knows… ask them to make a list of people they would like to send this tape to… and then to send it, along with their letter of endorsement.

The mathematics definitely checks out. Because if you know a 100 people… and they know a 100 people… suddenly that becomes a very big space. One that you might have a hard time exploring on your own.

Just as important, the psychology checks out. Because there’s a huge wall in the human mind between “known” and “unknown.” And you want to be on the “known” side.

There’s a broader lesson here too. But I saved that for people who are subscribed to my daily email newsletter.

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The easy way to start making more money with copywriting

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I recently read the plight of one newish copywriter. He is hoping to make the transition from “Hey, I write copy” to “Hey, I get XYZ results.”

That’s smart. It’s the easy way to start making more money with copywriting. But here’s the trouble:

This guy says none of his clients are sharing data with him. They seem to be using his copy. But when he follows up with them a few months down the line, they never respond about the sales his copy was responsible for.

I’ve been there and it sucks. So let me tell you what I did to deal with it:

1. Kept going. Eventually you’ll get to a client who will get value out of your work AND share the results with you.

2. Followed up with clients 3-4 weeks after I delivered the copy. “Have you had a chance to put it into production? How is it doing?” Don’t expect them to write you… and don’t wait months to write them. People forget, and they get lazy.

3. Kept learning and getting better on my own. Once clients really start getting results from your copy, it stops being “one-off.” It then becomes much easier to press them for the results of your copy.

4. Increased my rates. Better clients are more likely to share this kind of info with you.

5. Started working on my own side projects. You get all the data when you run your own small campaigns on Facebook, or send out emails to your own list.

Once upon a time, the name of the game in copywriting was “controls.” Today, there’s so much more work, and many successful copywriters are not writing for one of the big publishers. But it’s still helpful to throw out sales numbers that you can attribute to copy you wrote.

Claude Hopkins, one of the first people who got really rich as a copywriter, started out as a bookkeeper. He had the following insight to share about it. It still holds true — for both bookkeepers and copywriters:

“A bookkeeper is an expense. In every business expenses are kept down. I could never be worth more than any other man who could do the work I did. The big salaries were paid to salesmen, to the men who brought in orders, or to the men in the factory who reduced the costs. They showed profits, and they could command a reasonable share of those profits. I saw the difference between the profit-earning and the expense side of a business, and I resolved to graduate from the debit class.”

Maybe that’s gonna help you out. And here’s something else that might:

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Plagiarizing on the shoulders of giants

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Nobody called me out on it.

For the past four days, I’ve been sending out plagiarized emails. I would have kept going too, but I ran out of source material to abuse.

So on Saturday, I sent out the email “What I learned from copywriting.” That was plagiarized from James Altucher’s “What I learned from chess.”

On Sunday, I sent out “Stop caring what people think.” That was plagiarized from Jason Leister’s “Just tell me what to do.”

Monday was “Why I didn’t collect my $10.5 million.” That was plagiarized from Mark Ford’s “Why I wasn’t loyal to my broker.”

And yesterday I sent “How to create a selling style people love to read.” That was actually Ben Settle’s “How to create a writing style people love to buy from.”

If you are compulsively curious, track down the originals and then take a look at my plagiarized copies.

Because it’s not just subject line I plagiarized.

I plagiarized the content too. Especially the structure. Even entire sentences.

(By the way, I picked these four writers to plagiarize because 1) they send out more or less daily emails… and 2) they are the only people whose emails I more or less read each day.)

But here’s my point, and perhaps something that will benefit you:

I’ve spent a hundred hours or more hand-copying successful sales letters. I think this practice had some value. It forced me to slow down and actually read the damn things. But I don’t buy into the whole magic of “neural imprinting,” which is supposed to happen when you copy stuff by hand.

Instead, I’ve found plagiarizing to be much more useful.

Plagiarizing does double duty. It first forces me to look at copy critically, and ask, “What is this guy really doing here?”

For example, for the Jason Leister email, I came up with the following skeleton underlying the flesh of his writing:

* where I was before
* how that benefited others, why that was, all the wrong places I was looking
* realization of what will happen if I continue this same way
* what I do now
* what that does NOT mean
* bring it around to you
* analogy to reinforce
* diagnostic question you can ask yourself
* exposing all the reasons and assumptions that kept me where I was
* bigger consequences, or bigger context of this single issue
* inspirational takeaway if you do, and uninspirational takeaway if you don’t

I find this is much more effective than hand copying ads for learning. It seems to sink into my memory better, and it impacts how I write copy weeks and months later.

But that’s only half the exercise.

Because once you “chunk up,” you then have to “chunk down.” You actually write a new piece of copy with the same skeleton.

And that’s what I mean by double duty. Not only does this exercise help me learn… but it also produces a serviceable piece of copy. Often, it produces something better than what I would have written on my own.

With plagiarizing, I’m earning while I’m learning. Which is why, if you’re looking to get better at copywriting, I recommend shameless plagiarism to you too.

You can plagiarize my stuff if you want. Here’s the optin for my daily email newsletter.

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.