est

Don’t read this if you can’t stand harsh glaring lights

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“It is important that you get clear for yourself that your only access to impacting life is action. The world does not care what you intend, how committed you are, how you feel, or what you think, and certainly, it has no interest in what you want and don’t want.”
— Werner Erhard, founder of est

Last week, after I sent out my Copy Koala Millions™ email, a reader named Lester wrote in with this interesting point:

“The one other thing I remember from Carlton is how in almost all business segments, the customers want easy/painless/low effort results. BUT the body building/fitness guys want the opposite. You have to sell how fucking painful and hard it will be with what you are selling.”

It’s true — 99% of sales copy promises quick/easy/foolproof results, preferably accomplished by an external mechanism, which you activate by pressing a large red button that reads “INSTANT RESULTS HERE.”

But like Lester says, not every market is like that. Bodybuilders for one… maybe also small business owners and entrepreneurs.

For example, yesterday I wrote about Dan Kennedy’s “#1 most powerful personal discipline in all the world.”

Dan promises that this one discipline can make you successful beyond your wildest dreams.

But honestly, I didn’t need that promise to buy what Dan was selling. I became hypnotized as soon as I read the words “powerful personal discipline.” At that point, I was 86% sold already.

That’s why I said yesterday that I don’t need to sell this idea to you either. Because if you feel the twitching of this same drive for overcoming inside you… you probably perked up just because I kept stuffing the terms “self discipline” and “personal discipline” a dozen times in what I wrote yesterday.

The fact is, there’s a very real need inside most people for occasional struggle, suffering, and proving their own worth.

Suffering and struggle might not sell in front-end copy going out to a cold list of people who are already suffering and struggling with a problem.

But it definitely does sell, including in sister markets to direct response. Such as the seminar business, for example.

Werner Erhard, the guy I quoted up top, ran est, the biggest personal development product of the 1970s. est consisted of two weekend-long seminars where people would literally piss themselves because they weren’t allowed to go to the bathroom — in a giant hall filled with hundreds of strangers.

On day two, attendees would go through the “danger process.” From the book Odd Gods:

“A row of the audience at a time would go on stage and be confronted by est staff. One person would ‘bullbait’ all of them, saying and doing things in order to get them to react. Other volunteers would be body catchers for those who fell, a common occurrence.”

Like I said, this went on for two weekends in a row. In other words, people would show up one weekend, get humiliated and brutalized, and come back the next weekend for more. When it was all said and done, people found it transformative, and enthusiastically recommended est to their friends and family.

My point is simply a reminder. We are no longer living in the world of one-off sales letters pitching a book of Chinese medicine secrets. Today, there’s plenty of money to be made by being strict, demanding, and harsh. Yes, even in your sales copy.

… well with one caveat. I’ll get to that in my email tomorrow. Read it or fail.

This is it

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A fluff warning:

Today’s post is not about marketing or copywriting. It’s about vague life fluff. If that don’t interest you, I can understand.

But if it doesn’t turn you off, then let me set up the fluff with a poetic scene I saw this morning:

I was walking along a wooded path that runs through the middle of my home town.

A guy and his large dog were there. The guy let the dog off the leash, and the dog started gamboling about.

A second guy passed by on a bike, biking slowly up the gravel path.

The dog saw the biker, and he saw the chance for some fun. So he started running alongside the biker, barking loudly.

The biker was clearly not comfortable with this large dog’s attention. He kept on biking carefully and tried to stay away from the dog.

Of course, this meant the dog kept running along the bike happily and barking his warm dog heart out.

Meanwhile, the owner was yelling at the dog to come back. This was not working. So the owner started running after the biker and the dog.

And the whole threesome turned into a slowly moving procession, each keeping a perfect distance from the other two, as they made their way up the hill:

The biker, nervously trying to stay away from the dog… the dog, alongside the bike, barking and wagging his tail… and the owner, cursing and running at just enough pace to not lose the dog and the bike.

This made me think of another scene, one that happened a couple of months ago:

I was sitting on a bench at a Crossfit-style gym at the top of a fancy hotel in a cool city of a country halfway across the world. It was the middle of the morning, and the gym was empty, because besides me, most people have jobs to go to instead of being free to go for a workout.

I was taking a break between two exercises. And I was sitting on a bench, completely lost inside my head, thinking furiously about plans and projects I have for the mid-term future.

I was restless and unhappy. There’s so much to do, I thought, and I’m doing it so slowly. But once I manage to do it all, life will be sweet. Maybe in six months’ time.

And suddenly, I had an est-like realization.

“This is it,” I thought. “This is all there is. What exactly will be different in six months’ time?”

“The world around me will be more or less ok, depending on the moment, just as it is today. And I will still be lost in my head, thinking about the future and how much better things will be in another six months. Regardless of what I’ve accomplished in the meantime.”

You might think this sounds depressing, but for me it was good. I keep coming back to it, whenever I find myself getting anxious and wound up. Almost always, it’s because some part of me is barking at the future, and at all the stuff I haven’t done yet but want to do.

“This is it,” I repeat the line from Semi-Tough. “This is all there is.” And it makes me feel better.

The guy on the bike eventually stopped. This made the dog stop as well. The owner caught up to the two of them, leashed the dog, and then they were all off on their way again.

​​The barking disappeared. The biker and the owner both looked relieved. And the dog soon focused his enthusiasm and energy elsewhere.

The end. Except, if you want more content that’s less like this, you might want to sign up to my email newsletter. Usually it’s more cynical and exploitative, but I do occasionally write about “What am I doing with my life” moments like this.

In case you’d like to try my newsletter out, you can join here.