Imagine a large and hairy sailor, wearing a striped blue-and-white shirt and a bandana wrapped around his head, looking nervous.
The year is 1717, and he is the navigator of an English trading vessel that’s sailing through the Carribean.
A few times, the big navigator makes like he’s going to say something. But he stops himself.
His eyes keep darting forward — out toward the horizon – and then at the captain next to him, who is looking through the telescope.
It’s dusk and there is a ship up ahead. It’s very strange — there is nobody on board.
“It might have been the plague, sir,” the large navigator says. “Sudden plague could have taken them all.”
The captain shakes his head. He’s not at all worried. “Pirates,” he says. “Dusk is their favorite time. Have you readied the cannons?”
The navigator starts shifting his weight from one foot to another. “It would be a very simple matter for us to alter course, sir,” he says.
The captain squints his eyes and looks back through the telescope. “I — never — alter — course,” he says.
That’s the opening scene of a movie that never got made, called Sea Kings.
As you probably guessed, it’s about pirates.
And it’s also about how the human brain determines value.
In this case, start with a large sailor. From his physical size and job title, you would assume him to be a brave man. And he might be, in most situations. But out here, faced with pirates on the open sea, he’s nervous.
Then contrast that to the captain. He’s at another level of coolness and bravery. Unlike the navigator, he’s not afraid of pirates. He’s seen it all before and he won’t flinch.
And because the screenwriter — William Goldman in this case — set it up this way, it makes the next moment all the more dramatic and impressive.
Because in the next moment, a figure appears on the ghost pirate ship. It’s human shaped. But it’s entirely black and it’s enormous. It also appears to be on fire. And then the figure starts to speak. Its deep voice carries across the sea.
“Death or surrender… surrender or die… the Devil bids you choose…”
The big navigator starts screaming and running around. “What is that? WHAT — IS — IT?”
And the captain, who until a moment ago was so determined and tough, suddenly isn’t any more. He’s turned pale. He drops the telescope.
“Run up the white flag,” he whispers to the navigator. “It’s Blackbeard…”
That’s how you make an entrance for your main character.
Not by showing a closeup of him, scowling and looking scary and ugly.
Not by his credentials — the many cruel and daring things he’s done in his career.
Not by an action sequence in which your main character — a hulk of a man — fights a dozen frightened and incompetent soldiers.
No, if you want to make your main character frightening and awe-inspiring, you just put him at the top of a pyramid:
Blackbeard
Normally tough captain
Big and strong sailor who shouldn’t be afraid
The audience, representing the rest of soft and weak humanity
The fact is, the game of status is only ever relative.
You can think of it as a Ponzi scheme, or an MLM. The more people you recruit beneath you… and the more people they recruit beneath them… the better and more valuable your position.
And perhaps you’re wondering how you can specifically use this in marketing and sales copy.
The fact is, there are many ways. I could tell you what they are, but instead I’ll make you an deal:
Get a few people who are interested in direct marketing and form a little study group. With you as the leader. And then get them all to sign up for my newsletter. I’ll share my insights then.