Copywriting

Possible vs. probable in murder and in marketing

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A few days ago, as part of research for a copywriting project, I watched a movie called 12 Angry Men.

There are some spoilers about it ahead. So if you’re ever planning on watching this 1957 classic, it may be best to stop reading now.

Still here?

All right. Then I can spoil for you that this entire movie is about a jury deliberating a murder case.

An 18-year-old kid is charged with killing his father. Did he do it?

All the jurors believe so. Except for juror #8, who has a few doubts.

Over the course of the movie, through some unlikely twists and turns, this one guy, played by Henry Fonda, manages to flip all the other jurors.

The toughest nut to crack is a bull-necked businessman. He refuses to believe the kid shouldn’t go to the chair. After all, what about the woman who saw the kid do it?

And then the following exchange takes place:

Henry Fonda: Don’t you think the woman might have made a mistake?
Bull-necked businessman: No!
Henry: It’s not possible?
Bull-neck: It’s not possible!

Stubborn. Of course, what this last juror is saying is, it’s so improbable it’s practically impossible. And that reminded me of something insightful I heard from marketer Rich Schefren.

Rich was talking about prospects in direct response markets. These markets tend to be filled with people who have repeatedly failed to solve their problem. In time, many of these people conclude that solving their problem is so improbable that it is practically impossible.

The standard marketing approach ignores this. A typical sales letter explains how great the offer is. And then it gives testimonials to prove it.

“It might work for them,” your bull-headed prospect will say. “But my situation is different. It’s impossible!”

So your job as a direct response marketer is not just to show your prospect his problem can be solved. Instead, you gotta give the prospect hope that this time it’s different, and that success is probable, not just possible.

How do you do that?

I can think of a few different ways. I’ll tell you about one of them, which works well for swinging a jury of skeptical information buyers, in my email tomorrow. If you don’t want to miss that, here’s where you can subscribe to my newsletter.

Copywriting playboys get treated like a piece of meat

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A while back, when there was still such a thing as professional sports, I noticed that the top three or four men’s tennis players all had one unusual thing in common:

They were all in settled, long-term relationships, often with the same girl they had started dating while they were still teenagers.

Further down the rankings, you had tennis players who were known to be playboys. Regardless of their natural talent, these playboys hovered around the top 20, but could never break into the very peak of the sport.

Coincidence?

Probably. But maybe not. Maybe a stable relationship really is crucial for massive success.

Don’t worry. I’m not telling you to go in search of a ball and chain to lock around your ankle. My point is simply this:

When I look at top copywriters — meaning people who get paid millions of dollars a year, with schedules booked up months in advance — they all fall into one of two categories.

One is guys like Chris Haddad or Jon Benson, who got successful promoting their own offers. The other is guys like Dan Ferrari and Stefan Georgi, who worked in-house at a direct response publisher for long enough to get a pile of successes in their knapsacks.

What you don’t see are playboys who came up by bouncing around from client to client. Maybe this promiscuous lifestyle worked many winters ago. But I don’t see it happening today.

Not to say you can’t make good money as a copywriting playboy. It’s what I’ve done in my career. I now make more money for less work than at any job I could have ever held.

But if you want to make it to the top… or if you want to be perceived as more than a commodity service provider… then jumping from client to client is unlikely to get you there. ​​If you want clients to stop seeing you as a piece of meat, you will have to get hitched — either to your own business, or to somebody else’s.

That’s something I’m working on as well right now. If you want to follow how I’m doing that, click here and subscribe to my email newsletter.

Use the Force to avoid copy that’s too long

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George Lucas’s early drafts for the Star Wars script talked about “the Force of Others.”

These early drafts gave detailed explanations of what the Force of Others was, how it tied into a “Kyber crystal,” and how there was a “Bogan” side and an “Ashla” side of it.

Following his better instincts, Lucas stripped out all the explaining in the final draft. He got rid of the crystal and the Bogan nonsense, and dropped “the Others” and simply called it “the Force.” Star Wars went on to become a pretty, pretty big hit.

There’s a copywriting lesson here. But first, here’s another illustration:

Back in 1982, Darryl Hall was writing the prototype of a song called Maneater. He was stumbling on the last line of the chorus. “Oh here she comes… She’s a maneater and a …”

Hall can’t remember the original final line, because his girlfriend told him to “drop that shit at the end.” So he did. Maneater went to the top of the charts ​and stayed there longer than any other Hall & Oates song. Hall said that cutting down the last line made all the difference.

Conventional direct response wisdom says that longer copy outperforms shorter copy. It’s been proven over and over in many tests.

Copywriter Victor Schwab, who wrote How to Write a Good Advertisement, definitely supported the use of longer copy. But Schwab also wrote the following:

“Some ads don’t need much factual under-pinning… The copy about some products can soar successfully — without ‘coming a cropper.’ An abundance of factual material merely inhibits its flight. If too explicit about the “why” and “hows,” such copy pulls the reader’s imagination up short.” ​​

I can’t give you a recipe for when you should take out the “whys” and “hows” of your copy. I think it’s a matter of having a good feel for your market and your product, and knowing what they need to hear — and what not — in order to make the sale.

In other words, trust your intuition. Or use the Force. The Bogan Force. Of Others. And stop yourself if you say too much.

I should have stopped there. But I have one final thing to say. I write a daily email newsletter. If you’d like to get my emails, much like what you just read, you can sign up here.

How to avoid disappointing readers and burning yourself with “secrets”

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If you go on Amazon right now and look at the top 15 bestsellers in the Internet Marketing category, you will see a curious thing:

6 of those 15 books have a title of the form “[Topic] Secrets.” So there’s Traffic Secrets, YouTube Secrets, Instagram Secrets, plus three others.

Obviously, “secret” is a powerful word in direct marketing. It goes back to Robert Collier at least, who published a book called The Secret of the Ages back in 1926.

In the decades since, you had Gary Halbert with his sequence of “amazing secret” ads… Boardroom’s collection of “secrets” books… and today, Agora’s newest imprint in the IM space, which has a newsletter called Daily Insider Secrets.

Like I said, secrets obviously sell. Then and now.

And yet, I’m writing this email to warn you about “secrets.”

For one thing, “secrets” can make you sound like everybody else. 6 out of 15, remember?

For another, “secrets” might attract the wrong kinds of buyers. They might also put the right kinds of buyers into the wrong frame of mind.

For a third thing, and most important, relying on words like “secrets” can allow you to coast instead of coming up with better content. For example, here are some of the secrets from one of those Amazon best-sellers:

“Secret #1: What is copywriting?”
“Secret #13: It’s all about them — never about you”
“Secret #31: Polish your sales copy”

I don’t know how chipper you would have to be to avoid getting down in the mouth when this treasure chest of secrets is opened up.

But what’s the problem? The book is a best-seller, right?

In my experience, being on an Amazon best-seller list doesn’t mean much. But even if this book were a legit best seller, putting out generic content and calling it a secret leaves you wide open to competition. Your only defense is this thin mist of curiosity, which can dissipate in a moment.

Maybe I’m digging myself into a moralizing hole. So let me finish up by telling you what I tell myself, because it might resonate:

Put in a bit of extra work to come up with unique content and a unique perspective. Once you’ve got that, if it warrants being called a “secret,” then sear that on its rump and let it run.

But odds are, once you’ve done that bit of extra work, you’ll come up with a better, more interesting title or headline for your content. Maybe you’ll even start a new naming trend. One which half a dozen Amazon best-sellers will copy for years to come.

By the way, I’ve also got a daily email newsletter. It’s called John Bejakovic’s Newsletter of Secrets. You don’t have to sign up. But if you want to read all the secrets inside, here’s where to go.

“Meanwhile, back at the copywriting ranch…”

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“The longer [the evangelist] can hold interest, the more people he can convince — and the greater will be the number who will inevitably walk forward and ‘hit the sawdust trail.’ The less able he is to hold interest for a sufficient time, the greater will be the number who will inevitably walk out.”
Victor Schwab, How to Write a Good Advertisement

The most memorable lesson I learned from my former copywriting coach had to do with keeping the reader’s interest. It was most memorable because it made so much sense. And yet, it went against all my instincts for how I normally write.

It’s actually a well-known writing trick.

I’ve come across the same idea in an episode of Every Frame a Painting, the YouTube video essay series. The episode in question actually revealed behind-the-scenes secrets — the underlying structure that made each essay so interesting.

Among other tricks, there was something called “Meanwhile, back at the ranch.” In a nutshell, each episode would have multiple story lines. When one story reached a peak of interest, it would cut out.

“Meanwhile, back at the ranch…”

… and another story line would pick up. When that reached a new level of interest, it would cut out again, to switch to another story line. And so on.

This might seem silly simple when I lay it out like this. After all, that’s pretty much how every soap opera and TV show works.

But like I said, it’s not how most people write. At least that’s not how I naturally write. I usually want to express my point in a logical, linear — and boring — order.

Which brings me back to my former copywriting coach. He likened the structure of a sales message to a spiral that winds around the linear, logical skeleton of the points you need to make. The reader should never know for sure what you’re going to say next.

If you do create that winding spiral, you will keep your prospect interested. And like Vic Schwab wrote above, the longer you can keep your prospect interested, the greater the chance he will walk the sawdust trail. That means more conversions made… and more shekels in your collection box.

No collection box here at the moment. But if you want more of this kind of evangelical content, here’s where to sign up for my email newsletter.

Story-writing tropes and worldbuilding emails

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I want to share two things with you today that can help you with writing, particularly with the structure of your stories.

Thing one:

I’m rewatching the Matrix. In one of the opening scenes, a drive-by character says to Neo, “Hallelujah! You’re my savior, man. My own personal Jesus Christ.”

Of course, he’s just exaggerating. But there are a ton of parallels between the character of Neo in the Matrix and Jesus in the gospels. You probably knew this already, but I’m a little thick about these things, and I take stories too literally.

Anyways, I’m talking about a trope known as “the chosen one.” Besides The Matrix and the New Testament, you can find it in such pop culture sources as the first Dune book, the “Homer the Great” episode of the Simpsons, and even Kung Fu Panda. I found all this out thanks to a useful site I discovered today, called movietropes.org.

Don’t let the name turn you off — it’s not just movies but all kinds of media. A bunch of nerd volunteers break down tons of different tropes, give lots of examples, and link it all together in a wiki. Like I said, might be useful if you write.

Thing two:

A few months back, I wrote an email about the value of “worldbuilding.” Some people wrote in to ask if I had any more resources to share on that topic. I did not. But I do now.

Right now, Andre Chaperon is sending out a sequence of emails titled “Worldbuilding.”

It’s not specifically about inventing made-up marketing worlds. Rather, it’s about how to package up everything you do into a cohesive experience for your prospects. And that’s really the structure behind what worldbuilding, in the more fantastical sense, is all about.

I’m not sure if you can still get on this email sequence because it’s already in progress, and it’s a one-time thing. But if you want to learn about worldbuilding, it might be worth following the white rabbit over to Andre’s tinylittlebusinesses.com and taking the red pill once it’s offered to you.

All right, here’s a third and final resource you might like. Or you might not. It’s my daily email newsletter, where I write about persuasion, copywriting, and story structure. The door to get into that fantastical world is here.

Opening the impossible sale

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A few days ago, after reading a terrible article in The New Yorker, I decided to stop drinking coffee. At least for the next month.

It’s not a giant sacrifice. I was never a coffee snob, and coffee doesn’t do much for my flat-lining productivity.

But I do enjoy getting up in the morning, brewing some cheap coffee on the stove, and then thinning it to hell with cow milk. It’s a small pleasure, but in my life, that means a lot.

Even so, no coffee for the next month. That article spoiled it for me. It told the history of coffee, and it explained how the powers-that-be tricked society into getting addicted to coffee for their own evil ends.

To paraphrase Dave Chappelle, “And all these years, I thought I liked coffee because it’s delicious. Turns out, I got no say in the matter.”

Besides The New Yorker, I’m also reading a book called The Catalyst. The first chapter is all about reactance, which is what happened with me and coffee and that article. But the book gives another and better example of it:

Apparently, back in the 90s, the state of Florida ran one of the rare successful anti-smoking campaigns targeting teens. The ads didn’t tell teens about the harms of smoking. They didn’t tell teens to stop.

​​All the campaign did was highlight the devious ways the tobacco industry used to manipulate kids into getting hooked. As the campaign ran, teen smoking rates dropped by something like a million percent. Eventually, tobacco companies sued the state to get the campaign to stop.

Elie Wiesel said, “The opposite of love is not hate, it’s indifference.” Something similar happens in persuasion and marketing and sales. The opposite of making the sale is usually not objections. It’s simply indifference.

Of course, the best way to deal with indifferent, ambivalent prospects is to never face them. Selling those kinds of people is almost impossible. At least that’s what I thought until I read that stuff about reactance.

People want to have a feeling of control and agency in their lives. If they feel that’s been violated, they get very motivated to change. Even to the point of doing the exact opposite of what they were doing up to now.

​​That’s reactance.

I’d still rather not face indifferent prospects. But if I do have to face them, I know what I’ll do to open the sale. I’ll simply show them how choosing the status quo is not actually their decision, but the work of some puppet master behind the scenes.

Maybe you can try the same. If you so choose, of course.

Finally, here’s some facts that are not designed to persuade you in any way. I write a daily email newsletter. It deals with topics like the one you’ve just read about. The way to get it is here. And I in no way encourage you to sign up for it.

If you’re cold and selfish, there’s always hope for you as a copywriter

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There’s an email in my inbox right now from a successful copywriter. In a nutshell, the email says,

“Don’t take Advil if you’re a marketer. It’ll blunt your empathy!”

(Apparently, Advil reduces not only physical pain, but transferred emotional pain, too.)

This is a common trope in the marketing world. “Empathy! Empathy! How else can you connect with your audience?”

But you don’t need empathy to be a good marketer. Case in point: Sociopaths, who have zero empathy, are very good at all kinds of persuasion, including marketing.

(In fact, I suspect some of the marketers who most vocally preach empathy are themselves sociopaths. If you don’t believe me, check out the Salty Droid blog.)

So if you don’t need empathy, then what?

All you need is something called “theory of mind.” That’s the understanding that other people have unique selves, unique ambitions, unique current thoughts, and unique information.

Once you accept this fact, you just have to truffle out where your prospect’s mind is at the moment. You can get there with cold-hearted, robotic research.

No empathy required.

But what if you do have empathy? Does that make you a better marketer? Maybe. Or maybe not. Maybe it just makes you useless.

A while back I read an article about Jo Cameron, a nurse from Scotland. Cameron has a happy-go-lucky disposition and literally never feels pain, including empathetic pain.

Speaking about Cameron, a professor from Yale had this to say:

“Empathy can actually get in the way — if you are in terrible pain and I feel so much empathy for you that, being with you, I feel it, too, I may decide to stay home… [Jo Cameron is] my dream girl. She doesn’t feel the pain of others, so she doesn’t feel empathy per se. But she cares for others.”

So if you’re cold and selfish, there’s hope for you as a marketer. It might even be an advantage, as long as you care. At least about making the sale.

All you have to do is learn how to do research, like I mentioned above. This is something I might cover in more detail in my email newsletter. The way to sign up for it is here.

Spider-Dan stymies the experts and you can too

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On May 25 1981, a man dressed in a Spider-Man suit crossed Franklin Street in Chicago at just the right moment.

He had been scoping out the Sears Tower for several days. He knew the routines of the security guards. Right now, nobody would be there to stop him.

So he got out his two suction cups, stuck them to the black glass wall of the giant skyscraper, and started to climb.

It took him 7 hours, but he made it to the top. 110 floors, 1,450 feet above the ground. All the way to the roof of the world’s tallest building at the time.

The man’s name was Dan Goodwin. For his effort, he was arrested and fined $35. He also earned himself the nickname Spider-Dan.

That doesn’t seem like much of a reward. So what made Spider-Dan do it?

A few months earlier, Goodwin was in Las Vegas where he saw the MGM hotel burn down. In spite of the firefighters on the scene, 86 people died in the blaze.

The next day, Goodwin went to the fire marshal’s office. He had a proposal for how to rescue people from the top floors of burning skyscrapers by climbing on the outside.

“Have you ever climbed a building?” the fire marshal snapped back. “No? Then don’t tell me how to do my job.”

So Goodwin did a bit of thinking… a bit of practicing… and then on May 25th, he accomplished his audacious climb up the Sears Tower. Something most people, including experts like the fire marshal, would have said was impossible.

I’m not saying you can accomplish anything you set your mind to. I don’t believe that’s true, for you or for me.

On the other hand, most experts are full of mashed potatoes. An expert’s number one goal is to protect his own status and self-image.

You only have to go back 50 or 100 years to see how tons of experts in any field – whether scientists or politicians or educators — were dead sure of ideas we would find laughable or offensive today. The same will happen when people look back on today from the perspective of another 30 or 50 years.

Anyways, Dan Goodwin did all right for himself with his Spider-Dan role. But he could have been killed. And he did get fined $35.

In other words, the world can be a risky place. It makes sense to keep that in mind.

But when experts make confident predictions or prohibitions… well, my personal stance is to pay them no mind. Their job is to protect the status quo, and their own interests.

So here’s a suggestion: If you want to attempt something, don’t let adverse expert opinion stop you. You might succeed. And you might even get a cool nickname out of it, just like Spider-Dan.

By the way, I don’t pretend to be an expert. But I write daily emails nonetheless, mostly about persuasion and influence. If you want to get them, click here to subscribe.

Shorthand and shortcut in direct response copywriting

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Imagine the year is 1999. You are a dentist named Kurt, living in a small town in Pennsylvania.

One beautiful Saturday morning in May, you walk out to your mailbox, and you find a letter. You open it up to see a big headline that reads:

“There’s a new railroad across America”

“And it’s making some people very rich…”

Pretty intriguing, right? So you start to read.

The letter tells you how railroads made huge fortunes in the 19th century. But bankers were afraid to invest, so it was small, independent investors who connected America by rail — and got filthy-as-Johnny-Rotten rich in the process.

Finally, the letter explains what it’s selling:

A few companies are laying down a fiber-optic network to connect America by Internet in the 21st century, much like the railroad connected it in the 19th century. People who invest in the right companies have the chance to get rich like 19th-century railroad barons. Do you want to be among these shrewd investors?

Plenty of people did, back in 1999, when Porter Stansberry sent them this letter to launch his newsletter.

But imagine if Porter had written a slightly different letter. Instead of talking about a railroad, imagine he had used the headline:

“There’s a new goldmine in America”

“And it’s making some people very rich…”

This is pretty similar to the original. Another metaphor. Would it work just as well?

It’s unlikely. Here’s a relevant quote by one Linda Berger, a law professsor at UNLV:

“A reader who is asked to interpret a novel metaphor will be engaged in the creation of meaning, while the reader who is confronted with a conventional metaphor will do nothing more than retrieve an abstract metaphoric category.”

Stansberry’s “railroad” is a metaphor for an investing opportunity. Odds are, you’ve never seen this metaphor before.

A “goldmine” is also a metaphor for an investing opportunity. Odds are, you’ve seen that plenty of times before.

And that’s the difference Berger is talking about.

When you give people a novel metaphor, they start turning it around in their brains. They map aspects of the metaphor to their situation. So “railroad” becomes “Internet”… “tracks” become “fiber-optic cable”… “independent 19th-century investor” becomes “me.”

But what if you give a reader a conventional metaphor like “goldmine”? If Berger is right, and I suspect she is, then the reader says, “Oh, they must mean this is a big investment opportunity.” And if that turns your reader on, then he continues to read.

In other words, a novel metaphor is a shortcut between where your reader currently is… and where you want him to go mentally.

A conventional metaphor is shorthand. It can be useful to quickly express a concept in a few words. But it’s not gonna create any new insight.

Remember my post from yesterday? It turns out both Gary Bencivenga and Mark Ford were right. Cliches have their uses, and their limitations. And now you know why — and when to use shorthand, and when to create mental shortcuts.

Speaking of shortcuts, I write a daily email newsletter about persuasion. The way to sign up for it is here.