Copywriting

Wiley Jews and subverted cliches

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In 1982, Hollywood movie studios apparently froze in fear. None of their old formulas were working and big budget movies turned into flops.

In fact, the only runaway hit for the first half of the year was a small outside production, which managed to reap $136 million on a budget of just $4 million. It was called Porky’s.

I’d never even heard of Porky’s until a few weeks ago. I decided to watch it today.

It turns out to be a teen sex comedy set in Florida in the 1950s. It hasn’t aged brilliantly.

It’s quaint with its boyish pranks (one boy’s “tallywacker” stuck through a hole in wall of the girls’ locker room shower) and its unabashed objectification of the multitasking gender (a hot female PE teacher, played by a young Kim Catrall, is nicknamed “Lassie” because of her coital howling).

But ok. Product of the times, right?

What seems out of place even for 1982 is the subplot involving one Brian Schwartz. Brian is Jewish. In the 1950s Dixie high school, he sticks out like a lobster on a sand beach.

Spoiler alert: Brian rises above and works his way inside the gang. That’s impressive, considering he drives a Richie Rich Jaguar while all the other boys drive pickup trucks.

But Brian wins their approval by 1) speaking calmly and intelligently to get the other boys out of trouble with the police and by 2) coming up with a devious, multi-stage plan to replace the boys’ dumb plan for the climax of the movie.

Way to explode those stereotypes about Jews. You can’t blame Brian, though. He’s just using his God-given intellectual talents. What you can do is blame the screenwriters for resorting to the cliche of the natural-born Jewish schemer.

And that’s where today’s Porky’s email ties into copywriting:

One easy, almost mechanical way to surprise your readers involves cliches. Of course, not salting your copy with even more cliches. But also not avoiding cliches, either.

Instead, what you can do is subvert a cliche. You can do it at the level of your concepts (Gary Bencivenga: “Get Rich Slowly”). You can do it at the level of an individual sentence (Ben Settle: “Take my advice with a grain of chili pepper”).

However you do it, your reader will think he knows where you’re taking him… but Brian Schwartz doesn’t grow up to become a well-paid Hollywood lawyer.

Sure, you can get sometimes away with a cliche. Porky’s proves that, as do many sales letters and emails. But there’s value in unpredictability. As A-list copywriter Jim Rutz wrote:

“The #1 sin in ad mail is being boring, and over half of it richly deserves its quick death by wastebasket. What is ‘always boring?’ The predictable. You must surprise the reader at the outset and at every turn of the copy.”

“I don’t want a mail-order bride… I want it to be easy!”

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How hard do you think it would be to get a mail-order bride?

What if you were rich? Incredibly successful? Clever? Funny? Do you think that would help?

What if you were a master of persuasion to boot? What if you could write an ad selling yourself… using your masterful persuasion skills? Do you think you could get a nice Russian woman to fly over and marry you and your millions, sight unseen?

It might seem like a layup. But it isn’t.

A-list copywriter Jim Rutz, who was one of the most successful copywriters of all time, tried it. Apparently Rutz was a virgin until age 40. So he sought out mail-order love with an ad he wrote himself:

“Damsel Wanted (Distress Optional)”

But it didn’t work out. Rutz never did get married. Which makes me think of those ads for a “copywriting ninja superstar,” which are looking for somebody “who can sell ice to an Eskimo.”

Well, here was Rutz. Rich. Successful. And just about as good at written persuasion as anybody ever.

And yet. Single.

Which brings me to a passage from the Gary Halbert letter. Gary, another master of persuasion, was writing on the topic of “challenges.” It’s what I’ll leave you with today, because it’s stuck with me for years:

American business owners need another “challenge” about as much as Warren Beatty needs help getting dates. What we need are “set-ups,” lay-down hands, deals that can’t hardly miss even if everything goes wrong. (As it always does.)

I wanna sell heroin to junkies. Fudge bars that make you skinny to porkers. Porno videos to Pee Wee Herman. Travel luggage to President Bush. Memory pills to Ronald Reagan. Kitty Kelley dart boards to Nancy Reagan. Condoms to Geraldo Rivera. (Did you read his new book? Whew!) Booze to Ted Kennedy. I.Q. pills to Dan Quayle, etc… etc… etc.

Are you getting the idea? I don’t want (and certainly don’t need) another “challenge.” No… I WANT IT TO BE EASY!”

If you’re still reading, maybe you’re an addict for direct response and copywriting knowledge.

In that, I’ve got an offer that might be a layup:

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Don’t start your sales letters like this

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“This was not a guy you wanted to mess with before lunch. He was large and threatening… Half his face was covered with a kind of breathing apparatus… He spoke in a strange, mechanical voice. And to make it all worse, he was as cool as a gherkin and seemed prepared for any eventuality. That’s why his minions followed him blindly, and even his allies feared him. Who was this dangerous man? All we know is his name. He was called Bane.”

So begins Christopher Nolan’s The Dark Knight Rises.

​​With the above monologue, the narrator introduces the main villain, Bane, and then we get into the rest of the movie, where Bane and Batman work out their relationship problems in sewers and on rooftops.

Maybe you’re puzzled. Don’t be. You’re not going crazy. This of course is not how The Dark Knight really starts.

The real movie starts in a plane, where Bane pretends to be a hostage. Except of course he’s not. ​​His minions come in a bigger plane, use a crane to lift up the first plane, blow a hole in the tail section. Whatever. You’ve probably seen the movie. And even if you haven’t, the point is simply this:

Hollywood blockbusters do not start with a narrator talking you into the story. Instead, they start with a dramatic scene, which introduces the characters and sets the mood.

There’s a valuable lesson in there. Here’s why I bring it up:

A lot of copy I see starts in the narrator style above. “I have a problem. It’s really bad. I’ve tried all the solutions but nothing is working. It is making my life miserable.”

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not picking on anybody. I used to write like this myself until I learned better. Even now, it’s still easy for me to slip into this narrator style. And at least I’m talking about the problem.

The trouble is that many people who make good direct response prospect won’t respond to this copy. They have either seen too many such ads and they won’t get sucked in… or they don’t (yet) identify with the problem you are calling out — and they won’t get sucked in.

The solution comes straight out of Hollywood. Don’t talk. Don’t tell. Instead show. Start your sales letter — or advertorial or whatever — with a dramatic scene. “This happened and then there was an explosion, and I winced in pain.” By the way, there’s got to be pain. Or at least anxiety, anger, or envy. We’re talking direct response copywriting, after all.

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Copywriting that ages like fine milk

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Picture me in my kitchen a few days ago, waiting with a naive smile while my moka pot comes to a boil.

I’ve been craving a coffee all morning long, and here I am, only moments from fulfillment.

The moka pot starts to rumble — a good sign. I wait until it stops rumbling, take it off the stove, pour the coffee into a cup. Deep inhale. The coffee smell gets me excited about the drinking to come.

I open the fridge and take out the bottle of milk — not too much left, but it will be just enough — and I pour it into my cup. And out it comes. A whitish, lumpy, cottage cheese-like substance rolls out of the milk bottle and into my coffee. My smile is gone. The milk has curdled. My coffee is ruined.

A few things in life get better with age, but most get worse, much worse. Milk is one of them. My own writing is another.

About 18 months ago, I wrote a little book about how I succeeded on Upwork, going from zero experience and charging $15/hr, to being a well-paid and well-reviewed sales copywriter.

Then a few days ago, I had the idea to pull out a part of this book — specifically about how to apply for Upwork jobs – and put it on my site as an article.

But now that I’m re-reading what I wrote back then… well, my naive smile is gone. I’m not sure I want this aged writing curdling up the other content on my website.

Of course, with a bit of work, I could make this information presentable. But is it worth it? I don’t know.

I sent out an email to my newsletter subscribers to find out. If there’s demand for my advice on how to write 3-sentence Upwork proposals that win 4-figure jobs, I’ll put my distaste aside, and write this article up.

And if you want to know if it ever gets published, the surest way to get notified is to sign up for my daily email newsletter yourself.

From good-looking and talented to star in one easy step

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In 1969, Robert Redford was a good-looking, talented, accomplished actor. But he was not an A-list celebrity. “Throw a stick at Malibu,” said a Hollywood insider, “and you’ll hit six of him.”

And yet, after a single movie (Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid), Redford became the biggest star in Hollywood — not just for 1969, but for the entire coming decade.

In 2009 (or thereabouts), Rich Schefren was a successful and respected online entrepreneur and business coach. But he was not the no. 1 name in the Internet marketing space. He was certainly not getting mainstream attention.

And yet, after writing a single 40-page report (The Internet Business Manifesto), Schefren became a star in his field. Millions of downloads of his report followed, along with hundreds of new clients, and even the attention of big brands like Verizon.

My point is that a single piece of work can make you a breakout success. It can transform you from somebody who is skilled, prepared, and talented… into a star in your industry.

Unfortunately, I don’t have a recipe for you to become an A-list Hollywood celebrity.

I do have a good idea of how Rich achieved such big success with his Internet Business Manifesto. He’s been open with his strategies, and if you start following him online and going through all the content he’s publishing (a good use of your time), you’ll get the idea too.

However, if for some reason you don’t have time… or you hate the idea of following Rich Schefren… you’ll find the gist of Rich’s strategy in Commandment 7 of my upcoming book on valuable ideas handed down by A-list copywriters.

(Rich, by the way, is not an A-list copywriter. He’s just a very successful marketer, and somebody I’m using to illustrate a copywriting technique, which works just as well in the Internet Business Manifesto as it does in a cold traffic sales letter.)

Anyways, I’m making good progress with this little book, and it should be out by the end of this month. If you want to get notified when my book comes out, you can sign up for my daily email newsletter.

“A hell of a habit to get into and just about as hard to get out”

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David Ogilvy, a stylish copywriter who started one of the biggest marketing agencies in the world, once wrote that, of the “six giants who invented modern advertising,” at least five were gluttons for work.

One of Ogilvy’s marketing giants was Claude Hopkins, who may have been the first A-list copywriter of all time.

​​A century ago, Hopkins amassed a fortune by writing profit-generating ads for big brands, many of which still survive today — Palmolive and Quaker Oats and Pepsodent.

He also wrote a book called Scientific Advertising, which has become a kind of bible in the field. (According to Ogilvy, nobody should be allowed to have anything to do with advertising until he has read this book at least seven times.)

Hopkins was certainly a glutton for work. He worked 16-hour days, every day, including Sundays — his “best working days, because there were no interruptions.”

Sounds horrendous, right? But here’s the thing that struck me about Claude Hopkins and his love of work. From his autobiography, My Life in Advertising:

“All the difference lay in a different idea of fun. […] So the love of work can be cultivated, just like the love of play. The terms are interchangeable. What others call work I call play, and vice versa. We do best what we like best.”

In other words, work can become fun, if you work at it. Maybe you find that thought encouraging. I know I sometimes do.

Other times, though, all I remember is what Hemingway said about work: “It’s a hell of a habit to get into and it’s just about as hard to get out.”

So what’s my point? No point. It’s Sunday, after all, a day of rest for non-gluttons. Enjoy and relax. We’ll get back to points, well-made or not, tomorrow.

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How a copywriting tortoise can compete with dozens of hares

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One summer, through no real fault or merit of my own, I lucked into a job as a management consultant.

I was walking down the street and I saw a plaque on the wall with a company’s name.

“I wonder what they do,” I said to myself.

It turned out they built software for banks. So I sent an email to their public-facing email address, saying how I have a background in economics and software development (true enough), and maybe they could use me.

An email came back two minutes later. It was from the CEO of the company. “When could you come into the office to talk?”

He hired me a couple of days later, at what was then a royal sum of money for me, to do work I wasn’t really qualified to do.

Second story:

Last year, a call went out among subscribers to Ben Settle’s print newsletter. A publishing company in the real estate space was looking for “A-list copywriters” to write VSLs.

For more info, interested applicants were to write to the CEO of the company.

I really wanted this job, but it took me about a week to finally write to the guy.

During that week, I’m sure 50 to 100 other would-be “A-list” copywriters wrote in to apply the same job with their best-crafted pitches.

But that’s not what I did.

Instead, I spent that week researching this publishing company, and writing two new leads for their current hot promotion.

I heard back from the CEO as soon as I sent my leads in. He was impressed I’d done that up-front work, and he liked the copy I’d written.

A few days later, he hired me for a big project. He later hired me for a second project. And now, I just got some referrals from him, which resulted in new work.

I’m not telling you either of these stories as specific strategies for winning projects. When it comes to copywriting clients, I’ve never had success with cold emailing. And I don’t recommend just doing free work whenever somebody asks you for it.

The point I want to get across is simply this:

In any collection of 50 smart, hard working, gung-ho hares, I’m unlikely to stand out and win the prize. But in a race involving just me, a slow and lazy tortoise, my odds are much better.

Maybe your totem animal is equally uncompetitive. So instead of working to make yourself into a better competitor, look for ways to make the competition a non-issue.

One last tip:

A good way to make yo’ tortoise self stand out from the crowd is to put out a consistent daily message in your own voice.

For example, I have a daily email newsletter, in which I talk about copywriting, marketing, and Aesop’s fables applied to the business of freelancing. If you’d like to sign up for these emails, just click here and fill out the form that appears.

Converting ecommerce buyers to info buyers with a hot new claim

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Yesterday, I sent a surprisingly profitable email to a list I manage. Most of what follows about this is conjecture and hearsay, but it might prove valuable to you anyhow.

First, a bit of background:

The email list in question is made up of buyers of various household gizmos and as-seen-on-TV doodads.

Reusable paper towels made out of bamboo fibers…

“Bioceramic” orbs to do away with laundry detergent…

Anti-mosquito sonic bracelets.

When I imagine the kinds of people who buy this stuff, the phrase “magic button” appears before my eyes.

In other words, these are people who want their problems solved for them… and who are willing to pay a premium to get the solution in the form of a physical product.

That’s why I haven’t had much success promoting information products to this list. Clickbank bestsellers? Not interested. In fact, I’d all but given up on info products — until yesterday.

Yesterday, I didn’t really have a good offer to promote. So I went on Clickbank, searched among the “green products” category, and selected the best seller, an information product about “reconditioning” dead batteries.

I sent this out to my list, not expecting much. But like I said, it did business. In fact, out of the dozens of affiliate offers I’ve tested out, this came out second or third.

What made these “magic button” buyers plop down good money to get information? In other words, what convinced them to pay, not for a done-for-you solution, but for just blueprints to a solution?

Of course, my email talked about the money a typical family could save by reconditioning car batteries. But it did one better.

It also claimed that, with this battery resurrection knowledge, you could actually make money. You could get free, worn-out batteries, recondition them, and then put them up on Ebay for a nice profit.

So here’s where the conjecture part starts:

I feel that, thanks to the current moment of uncertainty and lost jobs and lots of people sitting at home, bizopp or make money online offers are not just blowing up… but are going mainstream.

This is supported by things I’m hearing from people who publish real estate investing products. They all say their businesses are growing like never before.

Like I said, conjecture and hearsay. But if you are a copywriter, or a business owner, it might be worthwhile taking the claim that your offer helps people make money — and bolting it on to your other, standard, proven claims.

If I’m right, and God knows that happens a good 50% of the time, then this bizopp appeal will work even in mainstream, magic-button markets. Markets that would never have responded to make money offers or paid for information, only a few months ago.

Speaking of which:

Have you heard about my email newsletter? I send out daily emails. Things to help you get better at copywriting and marketing. And to make money. You can sign up for the newsletter here.

A bad sign when writing copy

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I heard somebody say once — I can’t remember who or where — be like Mickey, not like Bugs.

Mickey is bland, nice, boring. Bugs Bunny is exciting, clever, fun.

But Mickey was the start and foundation of a multi-billion dollar empire. Bugs was not.

So be like Mickey.

I have to remind myself, and pretty often, that whenever I am particularly pleased with a piece of copy, it’s a bad sign.

There’s even a phrase that old-school writers used to describe this. They said you should kill your darlings.

This is especially true when it comes to sales copy. Whether you’re writing a sales letter to cold traffic… or a sales email to existing customers… in copywriting, clever is the opposite of good.

Simple appeals simply stated are likely to make you the most sales. Getting your message simpler is where your cleverness should be applied. And if you have any cleverness left over, then use it to find ways to surprise your readers, while still keeping your message simple.

Of course, sometimes I break my own rules. If you want to watch me fail in writing simple messages while discussing what I learn in my day job as a sales copywriter, then sign up for my daily email newsletter.

Half a mil (and then some) for a single copywriting project

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In 1997, while the stock market was in the middle of a nice bull run, direct response publisher Boardroom ran a promo. It was written by an A-list copywriter, Eric Betuel. It promised readers information on how to protect themselves and profit from “big money shocks.”

A year later, the mood had started to change. The market was overheating and all that dot-com money was going crazy. So Boardroom ran the same promo with another cover, talking about how to protect yourself and profit from the “coming worldwide money panic.”

Then in the spring of 2000, Nasdaq hit its peak and then quickly dropped 20%. Boardroom ran the same promo again. The new cover talked about the “coming stock market panic.”

Over the course of 5 years, this Boardroom promo mailed over 12 million times. Going at 5 cents per mailing, that means Betuel earned over $600,000 for this piece of copy. Not bad for a one-time project, along with a few new headlines about the unseen dangers lurking beyond the horizon.

Another A-list copywriter, Gary Bencivenga, once said there are two parts to copywriting: 1) opening the sale, and 2) closing the sale.

If history is any guide, opening the sale is the more fickle part of this equation. You might have to toss lots of different bait in the water. Much of it might not get a bite. But once that marlin is lured in and hooked, the same proven and almost automated process will work to pull the big beast out.