Saturday, 7:58pm
Tampa, FL
Howdy…
Hey, a big “first” for this blog today: We have a guest writer filling in!
Let me introduce you to Kevin Rogers, an experienced, savvy, successful copywriter (who has earned a spot on my “Inside Team”) who brings a unique perspective on writing sales copy.
See, his first line of work was stand-up comedy.
I’ve been pushing him to dig into the lessons he learned as a stand-up… which I intuitively know also apply to writing copy… and share.
For years, I’ve been the sole person to post on this blog… and I’ve always wanted to bring in other ink-stained wretches to guest-post. Kevin won the lead-off job by having the best story to tell.
So I’m outa here, on a brief and rare day off.
No matter what niche you’re in, the competition is stiff out there, and with AI and chatbots on the rise, it’s about to get even more so. So here are some more resources you need under your belt if you want to survive and thrive as a marketer.
You, however, need to read Kevin’s take on writing copy, below.
It’s excellent stuff.
Let’s have a warm round of applause for…
Kevin Rogers. Ladies and gentlemen, Kevin Rogers… (here ya go, Kevin… don’t blow it…)
Thanks, John.
Hello, everybody.
I’m honored to have scored this gig writing the first guest post on John’s “Big Damn Blog.”
As a kid I dreamed of filling in for Johnny Carson as guest host on “The Tonight Show”… and while I did spend a wild decade performing stand-up in comedy clubs and college bars all over the U.S., I never got near Johnny’s shoes.
However, for a copywriter… this is the equivalent.
Carlton is to the blogosphere what Carson was to late-night TV: the hip, gracious, straight-shooting host who always leaves you better off than before you tuned in.
I’ll do my best to fill up “Johnny’s desk” here the way a raw and relevant Jay Leno once did… and not just read from cue cards, like Ed McMahon.
You may have noticed a lot of copywriters are also recovering entertainers.
It makes perfect sense actually, for a few reasons:
First, the work pattern is very similar.
You wake up whenever you want, perform at your optimum level for a few hours, and then avoid going crazy until it’s time to perform again.
Second, writers and comics are all twisted in the same way. Someone once asked W.C. Fields what makes a comedian laugh.
He said: If you want to make an audience laugh, you dress a guy up like an old lady and push him down a flight of stairs. If you want to make a comedian laugh… you have to use a real old lady.
I’d say that’s accurate. But it works even better if the old lady was Ruth Madoff.
(Bonus similarity between writers and comics: Neither can resist one-upping someone else’s tag line.)
Anyway, the parallels in psychology between writing killer sales copy and slaying an audience with stand-up are endless…
… mostly because copywriters and comics come from the same school…
…the one where class clowns get to outshine the class president.
Whether you’re after the sale — or the laugh — the same ass-saving strategy used by smart runts on the playground to keep bullies at bay will take you a long way toward closing the deal.
The kids with comic blood found safe ground as court jesters, while the kids with salesman’s blood kept their lunch money by playing the role of “trusted adviser.”
The approaches may differ slightly in detail, but underneath it’s all about persuasion.
So, here now, for your useful enjoyment, are 3 important copy lessons on persuasion I learned from the comedy stage:
1. You’ve Got About 6 Seconds To Win Your Audience.
People are stingier than ever with their attention these days. There’s no room for error in that critical first impression.
Performing in a comedy club gives you the slight advantage of facing an audience that actually wants you to succeed. They stood in line, they paid a cover, and they want their date in a good mood later.
Still, that opening is crucial.
The first joke must be 3 things:
- Relevant…
- Pithy…
- And quick to establish your character.
It also needs to be an applause line.
For sales copy, as Carlton says, money is applause.
When your ad lands in front of a reader, he’s begging you to screw up, lose his interest and let him off the hook so he can jump off your greased slide and go do something else.
And you can triple that risk online, where every visitor enters your page with an index finger poised on a hair-trigger mouse click… just praying for any excuse to zap you into oblivion.
If your message fails to spark interest and resonate with your reader in those first few seconds, you’re dead.
So, the key to a powerful first impression is: Know your audience.
A seasoned comic can take one look at a crowd and know the best joke to open with, how often to curse, and how to close the show.
As marketers, we do our peeking from behind the curtain by stalking available data on potential buyers.
That means: Engage your niche in forums… survey existing customers… attend seminars… and do everything else you can to mind-meld with your target audience. People love to tell you what they want to buy and why they want to buy it.
Listen close enough and the copy practically writes itself.
2. Create A Penetrating Hook And “Pay It Off” Big.
In both stand-up and copywriting, ensuring your audience will hang with you requires a strong hook.
Like John teaches, it’s all about shaking your audience out their zombie state and getting them to lean in closer, wide awake and receptive.
And the best hooks will buy you undivided attention. (No one is going anywhere until they find out how a “one-legged golfer” drives the ball further than they do.)
But never forget the golden rule:
You must pay off your hooks!
I’m amazed at how many marketers miss this. They craft a compelling hook, announce it in the headline, then fail to ever mention it again in the letter.
What the hell is that all about?
Some even do it on purpose under the false assumption it will create curiosity.
It does not.
It creates frustration and destroys trust.
(I don’t have space for tips on creating hooks here, but the best lesson I’ve ever seen is in the “Simple Writing System.” that section on hooks alone is worth whatever price he decides to charge for it.)
3. Use Segues To Switch Topics Smoothly.
A typical comedy audience is not quite as demographically targeted as a typical direct marketing list.
In the club, you’ve got about equal parts dude and chick… and then a wide range of age, interest, intelligence, and alcohol consumption to deal with.
So, comics tend to write material with general themes that anyone can relate to, like dating and pop culture. The goal is to cover a variety of subjects so everyone feels involved in the show.
However, getting the audience to follow you from a joke about “your awkward first kiss” to one about those whacky “ShamWow” commercials can be tricky.
So comics use clever segues that quickly tie the subjects together and smooth any bumps in transition.
For instance, in the example above you might transition the topics by saying something like…
“That first kiss is a sloppy affair, too… drool everywhere. You need a ShamWow bib just to keep your shirt dry.
(… beat…)
You’ve seen those commercials for ShamWow, haven’t you…”
See. Nothing special, just enough to take their minds where you need them to go.
In sales letters you can use the “bucket brigade” list of short phrases that make the page flow smoothly through transitions and keep a reader’s attention.
For instance…
Right there where I said, “for instance…” is a bucket brigade term.
And not only that, but…
There are hundreds of these phrases, and you can easily go back and drop them in after you’ve written your copy.
But first, a word of caution:
Using too many bucket brigade terms together like this can backfire by giving your reader “Eyeball Whiplash”.
Moderation, and timing, are key.
So, there you have it.
Next time you’re stuck on a piece of copy, flip on Comedy Central for a few minutes. You might find the answer you’re looking for, and if not, at least you can laugh about it.
Thanks for having me. You’ve been great…
Try the veal!
Kevin
P.S. For more inspired musings and off-color anecdotes, check out Copy Chief. You won’t regret it.
P.P.S. You weren’t going to let me get away with not paying off the title of this post, were you?
Let’s have some fun: The title is, “Two Copywriters Walk Into A Bar…”
Let’s finish the joke. I’ll go first…
Two copywriters walk into a bar… a rookie and an A-Lister.
The rookie copywriter says, “I’ll have a Scotch… whatever you have in the well is fine.”
The A-List copywriter says, “I’ll have Scotch, too, but make mine the 25 year old Macallan.”
The bartender hands them their drinks.
The rookie takes a sip of his cheap Scotch and winces, “Aacchhh…” he says. “That tastes horrible!”
After a short pause, he grabs the A-list copywriter’s glass of Macallan and takes a giant swig.
The A-lister says, “Hey… what the hell are you doing!?”
The rookie says, “Split testing.”
Ba-dum-dum.
OK, now give me your punch lines in the comment section. It doesn’t have to be brilliant (as I‘ve skillfully demonstrated), just have fun. It’s good brain exercise.
Friday, 8:56pm
Reno, NV
“Like, that is totally squaresville, man.” Maynard G. Krebbs, to Dobie Gillis
Howdy.
Do you recognize the quote, above?
If you do, you’re old enough to remember when the world was pretty much divided between the “squares” (buzz-killing, humorless mainstream zombies)…
… and the “hipsters” (the dudes and dudettes with no boundaries on experience or knowledge).
I’m not gonna go into the history of the word “hip”… because it would take me days to get through it. Entire Ph.D programs are based on research into this peculiar area of mid-last-century American life…
… and you might be shocked to realize where the original term comes from. (Hint: It’s more about overdosing on cough syrup than being well-read or artsy.)
(Though it was still important to BE well-read as you toasted your brain.)
No. Today, I just want to touch on a small part of this history…
… as it pertains to business.
Here’s what I’m talking about: I have always been attracted to intelligent people…
… and through that attraction, I learned that many smart-ass folks tend to be “free thinkers”…
… which means they aren’t afraid of new ideas, or excursions into the darker areas of human experience.
As a slacker, I was obsessed with writers from the Beatnik ranks (Kerouac, Wm. S. Burroughs)… the “Lost Generation” (Hemingway, Henry Miller)…
… and the travails of First Amendent “freedom of speech” heroes like Grove Press (whose owner was frequently prosecuted, along with Lawrence Ferlinghetti, by insisting on publishing books the uptight element of American politics wanted to ban and censor).
(And yes, they went to jail because The Man didn’t want Americans reading stuff that might be dangerous to the power structure.)
I wanted to know and experience the world as deeply as possible… so reading “dangerous” authors and studying “degenerate” art movements opened me up to ways of thinking completely alien to my otherwise normal lower-middle-class small-town upbringing.
The early lesson I learned from this was alienation.
When you care about stuff that most of the rest of the world is appalled of…
… you start to feel “different”.
Nowadays, geeks have earned some respect. The greatest directors in Hollywood indulge in sci-fi and fantasy, comic books are regarded as high art forms, and wealthy people collect vast archives of childhood memorabilia without shame.
Back in the last century, though, being “different” made you a social leper.
Unless, of course, you were lucky enough to find other like-minded souls to hang out with.
This is why my professional career veered sharply from working with “A List” clients like Rodale and large corporations…
… to entrepreneurs.
The corporate world paid well… but was soulless.
And pretty much mindless, too.
It nurtured conformity and mediocrity.
So when I met Gary Halbert, I chucked everything (and I was one of the rising stars in the “A List” ranks of copywriters) to go slumming in the entrepreneurial world with him.
I turned my back on millions in royalties. Because I valued intellectual stimulation more than collecting coin.
Then, as now, that entrepenurial world was sharp, edgy and wild — like a great street party in a bad part of town.
(While the corporate advertising world is like a mild, boring cocktail party in an overpriced condo where you gotta be careful not to get the white carpeting dirty.)
Changing gigs like that was like taking off a tight-fitting girdle… and breathing deep again.
We could swear like sailors around clients. We were irreverent, on all subjects. We glorified in reading weird literature, and in knowing obscure things.
We built our reputations on being different, and made it pay.
And, through fame, we became magnets for other like-minded writers and marketers.
All my life, I’ve yearned for my own Algonquin Table. (That was the infamous back-room table of a bar in New York back in the Roaring Twenties… where the greatest, wittiest, funniest and most irreverent writers in America hung out and drank and created scenes. Dorothy Parker, George S. Kaufman, Robert Benchley — of The New Yorker, the Marx Bros. movies, and early comic novels, respectively — held court there, and every savvy writer of every following generation has lusted for the same kind of opportunity.)
I’ve been lucky to get close over the years.
Hell, it’s one of the main reasons I host and speak at seminars. (Yes, the rumors you’ve heard about the exploits around San Francisco after the recent Hot Seat Seminar there are true. Those photos you’ve seen being Twittered about are real, and untouched.)
(Oh, the shame…)
All of my favorite people are voracious readers, eager to explore scary intellectual alleys and unafraid of self-examination, expanded consciousness, and (gasp!) new ideas.
But here’s the thing: You cannot ever, ever, ever forget…
… that the squares still run the world.
And they are uptight about sex… unamused at sick humor… unforgiving about moral lapses… and pretty much permanent assholes when it comes to what they consider “too much freedom to do just anything you damn well please to do.”
Basically, everything the hep cats consider fun, valuable and worthwhile…
… is taboo to the squares.
And they love to make laws against it.
So you gotta be careful.
It is tempting, when surrounded by your pals (who all think your twisted jokes are hilarious… and who all agree that challenging authority and flaunting rebelliousness and one-upping each other with increasing levels of shocking behavior is just the best way to spend an evening)…
… to be lulled into thinking that what you’re doing is innocent, or even acceptable.
Because, you know, all your buds are “in” on it, and you’re not hurting anybody, and it really IS funny stuff. And the deep thinking really IS profound and intellectually invigorating.
It is a mistake to think there is no danger in embracing and enjoying your “otherness”.
It is, in fact, extremely dangerous.
And I’m not talking about the more obvious stuff, like letting your sexual freak flag fly, or imbibing illegal substances, or even challenging political or religious orthodoxy.
Naw. That’s too easy.
The lesson I learned, early, was this: Most people do not get the joke.
Not “some” people.
MOST people.
A few universities have studied humor, and the results I’ve seen are shocking.
A pitiful minority of folks actually have ANY sense of humor at all… let alone a sophisticated one.
Many learn to laugh on cue when the crowd laughs. They don’t actually “get” what’s so funny, but they want to be part of the fun.
It’s akin to asking someone “You believe in the Bill of Rights, right?”
In America, most will nod enthusiastically. Of course I do. It’s the foundation of our strength as a country.
Of course, if you list out what’s actually IN the Bill of Rights — without telling the average person what you’re quoting — you might get slugged as a commie terrorist.
The disconnect in the brains of most squares is breathtaking.
If you’re smart…
… and you revel in being smart, and educated, and interested in life deeply…
… dude, you’ve got to be careful about how you engage with others.
Halbert and I both had bizarre senses of humor. Our “hobby” during seminars (and we both enjoyed this tremendously) was to try to crack the other one up on stage through passed notes or whispered messages.
Extra points if we did it so well it interupted things. (I almost made Gary wet himself once from laughing so hard. On another occasion, he made me fall off my chair, giggling uncontrollably and snorting snot. On stage. God, I think it’s on film somewhere.)
One of the other ways we entertained ourselves was to insult each other in cruel and vivid terms, publicly.
Oh, we were vicious with each other. It got ugly at times… and I remember those episodes with a smile on my face.
We were good at it. And praised each other’s capacity to absolutely stun ourselves with what seemed to outsiders as hurtful taunting.
Don’t ask me to explain it. I think we shared this trait with a lot of other folks in high-stress positions. It’s the premise of the movie M*A*S*H. (Not the lame-ass TV show, the movie.) (Okay, and the book.)
But here’s the strange part: Frequently, someone from outside our little group would think it was just the greatest idea in the world to join in.
So they would come up to us — as complete strangers — and toss out a crude insult.
And expect us to just laugh, and let him into our confidence as “one of us”.
Wow.
Totally clueless.
Remember Curly from the original 3 Stooges? Their routine involved fake fights — they poked eyes, pulled out hair, slugged each other with fervor and generally performed constant assault and battery throughout their Hollywood careers.
Outsiders, however, didn’t always understand that it was part of an act.
So they would come up and poke Curly in the eye. Like it was just the funniest thing in the world.
The squares don’t “get” it.
If you’re on the inside, and you enjoy breaking taboos and challenging social hierarchies and questioning authority…
… don’t ever get complacent about it.
You may not get blow-back for years. Maybe not ever, if you’re one of the lucky few.
However, eventually, being too casual about ignoring the power that squares wield in the world…
… can bite you in the ass in ways that will crush your reality.
Don’t fight it.
The rule is simple: Know your friends, and know when the circle has been breached by outsiders.
Most of the world sleep-walks through their day, and they are genuinely insulted by people who are different.
This is why I love America so much. Thanks to the First Amendment, the pursuit of intellectually-stimulating and challenging humor has been a first-rate entrepreneurial adventure for decades here.
Just never forget that ALL of your favorite current comedians wouldn’t exist…
… without the Lenny Bruce’s, the Smothers Bros., the George Carlins, the Cheech & Chongs, the Mort Sahls, and all the others…
… who often went to jail, and suffered ostracism and FBI stalking…
… so that you could laugh at politicians and religious leaders today.
This is not something you should take lightly.
There has never been a situation like this in the history of civilization. Your smart-ass ancestors always had to look over their shoulders.
It’s better now. But you’re not completely in the clear.
Keep your edgy humor and your twisted behavior under wraps amongst the squares.
And cultivate the situations where you truly can create your own Algonquin Table of like-minded people.
For most of the really good writers I know…
… we have to constantly remind ourselves we’re strangers in a strange land.
And I’m okay with that.
You just gotta stay frosty, and not kick the beast unnecessarily.
Okay?
Okay.
Comments welcome.
If you guys want to hear it, I’ll get into the whole subject of “cool”… which is completely and stupidly misunderstood in this culture.
But it’s heady stuff. Writers talk about it a lot in our small groups.
Let me know if this subject — or any other subject — is something you’d like to see explored on this blog.
Later, man.
John Carlton
Thursday, 8:25pm
Reno, NV
“What’s keeping YOU up at night?”
Howdy,
Quick post here, I swear.
I have a small problem…
… and I could sure use your help.
It’ll take you, like, two minutes or so.
And yet… it will be of tremendous value to me. If I’ve ever given you something of value before — a piece of advice, a tip, a hint on direction, a good belly laugh, whatever — then I’m calling in the chit.
I want you to comment here.
Here’s what’s up: Among smart marketers — those who have their money-making act together — my core message is a well-known commodity.
“Nothing good will ever happen in your biz… until the copy gets written. And… the best person to write the most important stuff… is you.”
This message is unquestioned among the top marketers I hang out with.
They even eagerly tell anyone who will listen, to listen to me.
Many of the best (like Eben Pagan, Frank Kern, Rich Schefren and others) almost never talk about copy without mentioning my impact on their own learning curves… and they help spread the message.
The heavy hitters all know — without a shred of doubt — that copywriting is the foundation of all things profitable in business.
But here’s the rub: Outside that group of “in-the-know” marketers…
… I often run into a brick wall trying to get entrepreneurs and biz owners to truly understand the importance of writing.
I feel like the first guy to see the aliens land in a sci-fi movie… and the townspeople all ignore my dire warnings of Armegeddon. They smile and nod, and agree that it certainly WOULD be nasty-bad if evil aliens were coming, but…
And their minds wander off in total distraction.
If you’re in business…
… and you’re ignoring the role of great copy in your quest for success and wealth (and your need to learn HOW to write that great copy)…
… then, like the oblivious townsfolk, you’re risking becoming TOAST.
Especially in the economic melt-down happening now.
It’s really pretty simple: Those who know how to write killer ads, emails, video scripts and everything else…
… are going to thrive.
And those who don’t…
… well, it ain’t pretty.
And that’s my dilemna: I’m very good at reaching the “insiders” in business. They immediately “get” how critical and how totally cool it is to know how to write sales copy.
As for the people who are “un-initiated” in direct response?
Not so much.
The message seems to take a while to sink in.
So here’s what I would love to hear from you: What is your NUMBER ONE problem with writing ads right now?
Are you frustrated with the process of trying to write? Do you see it as hard work or — worse — as a big voodoo mystery you’ll never figure out?
Do you avoid learning the essentials of writing for any conscious reason? Or is there something personally difficult about writing that makes you just want to skip the whole concept?
Or what?
I am seriously looking for input here.
If you’re an entrepreneur… or small biz owner… or even a rookie… and you don’t know how to write what you need written…
… could you please look inside your own brain…
… and honestly share with me what the problem is? What is your Number One constraint holding you back from digging into this skill?
I’d appreciate it.
Thanks, in advance.
Hey — let’s make it a little contest.
The person who most succinctly and clearly helps me see what I’m missing here…
… will win a free copy of the freshly updated “Kick-Ass Copywriting Secrets of a Marketing Rebel” — the course that launched so many of the online marketers now dominating the virtual landscape.
Does that make it worth your time to look inside… and give me some insight as to why it’s so hard to break through the resistance so many people have on this mega-important subject?
C’mon. It’ll take you a couple of minutes. You may even learn something about yourself.
And…
… if you’re already writing your own stuff, successfully… you can get in the competition, too.
Just remember back to what held you up from getting started learning the skill.
What was your biggest obstacle? The cost of getting help? Not knowing where to turn or who to trust? Not having the time? What?
Let’s give it until Monday to decide on the winner, what do you say?
The competition begins now…
Stay frosty,
John Carlton
Thursday, 5:39pm
Reno, NV
“Alex, I’ll take Entrepreneur Secrets for $500.” (Apologies to Jeopardy)
Howdy…
Are you a successful entrepreneur?
Are you struggling, but in the game?
Or… are you thinking about getting into the game?
Then the question I’m about to ask you may be of particular interest.
Here’s the quiz:
“What do you think is the single most powerful motivation driving entrepreneurs to outrageous success?”
In other words… what fuels the mind of the typical rich, famous, and happy, happy, happy entrepreneur during his rise to wealth and satisfaction?
I want to hear your guess in the comments section below.
Most folks guess wrong.
However, if you’ve been reading my slop for awhile, you may already have your finger on the right answer. Cuz I’ve talked about this very subject often.
It’s one of the most shocking discoveries I made, early in my career… and it catapulted me over every other freelancer in Los Angeles, and drove me deep into the heart of the roiling entrepreneurial world (where I met and bonded with dudes like Gary Halbert and Jay Abraham).
This is not a trick question.
But I’ll bet you get it wrong.
Here are few hints: It’s not the desire for more money.
Nor is it a lust for “freedom”, or even independence.
Look — I am on close, intimate terms with probably a hundred of the top marketers (both offline and online).
When we get together, we gossip like schoolgirls, take great delight in the art of creative insults… and (most important) share the often overlooked truths of success with each other.
I say “overlooked” not because we hold back from telling people the stark realities of how we earned our mojo.
Naw.
These truths are overlooked because people refuse to believe they’re real.
It’s like a groupie once said of Mick Jagger: “Yeah, he was okay in the sack and all that… but he wasn’t Mick Jagger, if you know what I mean.”
Until you actually experience real success, the reality of it is not easily fathomed.
So…
… here’s some honest insight, from me, on what power-drove the wealth and happiness of many of the most notoriously-successful entrepreneurs I know.
Leave either your answer…
… or your own experience, looking back on your rise to the Big Bucks…
… in the comments section.
C’mon, don’t be shy.
It’ll take you five freaking minutes.
And it’ll be fun, seeing what people believe to be the single biggest motivations driving people toward their goals.
There really aren’t any “wrong” answers…
… however, I will give you the real answer on Monday. (Meaning, the truth behind some of the most spectacular success stories of recent times.)
It may confirm what you’ve already suspected, or learned through personal experience.
Or, it may shock the hell out of you.
But if it does shock you… at least you’ll know the truth.
Leave your comment. Check back on Monday.
And enjoy your weekend…
Stay frosty,
John Carlton
P.S. Capitalist note: Though the guided at-home Simple Writing System mentoring course is closed and sold-out (sorry, not even folks on the waiting list could get in)…
… we ARE still offering the basic DVDs and workbook. Just without the hand-holding.
http://www.simplewritingsystem.com
Sample comment from an entrepreneur who just opened her Simple Writing System: “I am flabbergasted with all of the information in the package.”
I know. We did it on purpose.
So this course would be the main “go to” resource for writing in your toolkit.
Why haven’t you gotten yours yet?
Thursday, 11:45pm
Reno, NV
“Goooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooal!” That Spanish-language sportscaster who screams “goal” like that during futbol matches.
Howdy,
Hey — you watching the Olympics?
What’s been your favorite moment?
I got sucked in pretty early. Despite the opening ceremonies which, I thought, completely blew chunks. I especially thought so after discovering they used CGI fakery for some of the whiz-bang effects.
I mean, really, man.
Totally uncool.
And NBC gets a D- from me for its prime time coverage.
The third day — while dozens of actual events were being ignored by the network — we were treated to a stupifying “feel good” non-sport segment featuring only American athletes mumbling about how they got there… followed by ten minutes of commercials… then a truly banal drawn-out segment of some Americans on the gold medal podium listening to the Star Spangled Banner… another ten minutes of commercials… and then ANOTHER long segment of different Americans on the podium.
With another helping of the Star Spangled Banner.
Just a tad jingoistic there, guys.
Look. I love the national anthem.
I think it’s kick ass (even though it’s to the tune of an English drinking song… which is ironic since the poem’s about the shelling of an American fort by British warships during the War of 1812… but never mind that).
It’s just that the Chinese haven’t got a clue how to play it right. They’ve got French horns blaring (French horns!) and zero soul.
That Nike commercial of Marvin Gaye doing it with true style is stunning.
Play that one once in a while, dudes, for the awards ceremony.
Damn it.
And the Chinese deserve F’s across the board for their shameful jail sentences to the folks who tried to get a permit to protest.
Talk about “bait and switch”. The Chinese gov’t made an announcement that a special area had been sectioned off in Beijing for anyone to protest — all you had to do was go to the police station and ask for permission.
There have been zero protests.
Because everyone who asked, was sent off to work camps for “re-education”. Two 70-year-old ladies were sentenced to hard labor for daring to complain.
Nice work. Show the world what a great country you run over there.
If you ever want a clear reason why the Constitution matters — even after centuries of asshole politicians trying to gut it — just consider the fate of folks in China who disagree with the leaders.
They throw bloggers in jail. Average 15-month sentence. For daring to criticize even the most dunder-headed moves by the Glorious Leaders.
Geez…. maybe I should keep quiet, huh? I may be going to China soon…
Bastards.
However…
Aside from all the communist mayhem and capitalist bullshit…
… I’m hooked on the Games.
I can’t help it.
Best part: I love the way all these international teams challenge our confined view of how sports should be played.
And I get excited just realizing how much other countries go bezerk over bizarre events… like handball.
You ever see a handball game? It’s freaky.
And ping pong.
I mean, what’s ping pong with no beer on the table?
That’s just… wrong.
Mostly, though, I’m grooving to the international flavor.
We don’t get enough of the world outside the US. Too many people here think the sun rises and sets on the continent alone.
I’ve traveled a bit, and I love the exotic feeling of foreign soil. I crave more of it.
I’ve been a slacker about it, lately. I let bidniz dictate my travel plans.
My bad.
But I’m suddenly jonesing to traipse new lands again.
Americans are way too isolated for our own good. This year’s basketball Redeem Team is going to slaughter everything in its path, and that’s fine with me.
But I also loved the stunning loss by our prior team, 4 years back. Not because I was rooting against them.
Because that shocker was necessary to remind everyone that a game…
… is still a game.
And underdogs can have their day.
Gotta love the underdogs, man. They’re my people.
And looky here… there’s even a marketing lesson in all this.
I’ve been giving advice to clients for years on how get “unstuck” with their marketing.
First order of biz: Get out of Dodge.
Go somewhere where your usual bullshit doesn’t cut it. Where you’re the one who doesn’t know the language. Where you’ve got to be on your toes, and put all your resources to the test.
Make those rusty old neurons fire on all cylinders again, get that sluggish gray matter pumping again.
It’s so easy to get bogged down in routine.
Living life well includes lots of “shake it up” adventure.
Doing new things.
Engaging the world outside your own safety zone, and maybe even taking a few lumps in the process.
It’s a big world. The US is a powerhouse… but in the grand scheme of things, we’re kinda provincial. Stuck in our ways. Naive, really, about a lot of things we’d be better off getting hip to.
When you ignore the commericals, hold your nose at the abusive gov’t shakedowns, and mute the sappy interviews…
… I think the actual games of the Olympics are kinda cool. You’re reminded, hourly, of how other people use goal-setting, discipline and a hard-core combination of cojones and guts to accomplish extraordinary things.
And it makes me wanna go play beach volleyball in Brazil, maybe…
Are you watching?
Heck, I’ve lost sleep staying up to catch certain events. It’s just riveting, sometimes…
Except for handball.
What the hell is THAT all about?
Stay frosty,
John Carlton
P.S. Hey — just a reminder that blog readers are considered “part of the family”… and we’re offering you the same courtesy as our “hot list” members.
We’re rolling out an exclusive-to-our-list opportunity for at-home mentoring through this cool new program we’ve developed. A year in the making!
Serious limitations, and we’ll have to tell some people “no” for sure. The deadline for getting involved is coming up super-fast…
… so check out www.simplewritingsystem.com
We’ve just put up some fascinating free videos that should make your day.
Just hurry, all right?
Monday, 11:17pm
Reno, NV
“One in four adults read no books last year.” USA Today
Howdy…
Quick post here, cuz I’m heading off to the great Northwest for a short vacation.
I’m taking a book, too. Godammit.
A brand spanking new one. Because I finished the other one I was reading.
Fiction, if you must know. A very modern “noire” type mystery, loaded (I hope) with sex, violence, and page-turning “brain junk”.
It’s a new author who, I’m also hoping, will engage me with his writing.
There’s nothing better than discovering a writer who knows how to get deep inside your head, so your day is planned around time to get back to the book for another dose in the world he’s created.
Wait, I take that back. It’s even better if he’s been a prolific little dude, and there are more books lined up behind that one waiting for you.
But I’m not holding my breath.
I have been left at the alter, so to speak, far too many times by books with good cover blurbs (“The most riveting, ball-busting adventure I’ve read in decades!”) and no juice inside.
Fortunately, long ago I gave myself total permission to slam any book shut the moment it bores me, or offends me with stupid plot devices, or just plain shows evidence of sucking…
… and I toss it across the room, trying to hit the trash can on two bounces off the corner walls. Bam, bam, plunk.
Very satisfying.
And yet, I’d much rather discover something good to read again.
Copywriters are famous for loving writers like John D. MacDonald, who wrote something like 35 Travis McGee detective novels. Or Ian Fleming, with his dozen or so James Bond adventures.
But really good writers are hard to find.
The bookstore is crammed to the rafters with BAD writers (in case you hadn’t noticed).
Sometimes, for example, I get a hankering for some science fiction — a niche that sustained me during a gruesome adolescence — and I’ll cruise the SF aisles randomly opening books and reading half a page.
Sci-fi novles are almost universally horrible these days.
I long for the next Assimov or Bradbury. But I’m not holding my breath for that, either.
Wait.
There’s a marketing lesson here.
Do this little experiment: Grab four books from the bookstore. (And yes, I’m asking you to drive to an actual bookstore, get out and walk around. It won’t kill you… and it will force you to realize the vast tree-killing industry out there trying to steal eye-time away from your marketing efforts.)
Get two fiction books, and two business books. Doesn’t matter what the subject matter is — so choose something that rings your chimes. Sexy murder mysteries, Idiot’s Guide to the Web, classic literature, one of those tomes by Joe Sugarman you’ve been promising yourself you’d read someday.
Drink your cappucino, drive home, and secure a spot somewhere you won’t be disturbed for half an hour or so.
Now, plow into the books. Read all the cover blurbs, the forwards, the table of contents, and the first chapter.
That’s it. Just the first chapter.
Toss it aside, pick up the next book and do the same. And so on, through your little pile.
What you will have, after this short experiment, is a very stark example of four different kinds of writing. By four different authors.
Now ask yourself — do you want to continue reading any of these books?
What you’re looking for is being grabbed by the writer.
My guess is that, after randomly grabbing four books that were professionally published, one-in-four will not suck.
That fourth book may, in fact, rock out.
At least for you.
Repeat this experiment as needed until the lesson becomes obvious. (You can use the library instead of the bookstore, if you don’t want to blow the dough… or you hate cappucinos…)
Some writers know how to grab your attention, quickly and definitively.
Sometimes, they know what they’re doing. They craft their writing to lure you in, and hold you there. These are the experts.
Other times, the writer is unskilled, and merely “transfering” their own passion to you through the written page. Maybe an editor was in evidence, cleaning up the tangents and bullshit.
More likely… the writer just got in touch with communicating what he needed to say… and did it. Just slammed it out, and hit paydirt.
He may never be able to summon that kind of lucky groove again.
Online, with most websites and all blogs currently relying on the written word to convey most of the message, getting read is your Number One Priority.
Even is you’re swinging into using video more and more (and I love video)… you still must rely on the same writing skills to grab and hold attention through the script.
Trust me on this experiment: You need to do it yourself.
No matter how little you read normally.
Hell, especially if you’re a reading slouch.
It’s tough to become a top marketer while languishing among the 25% who never read… or the 50% who seldom read (half the country reads a single book in a year… and it’s usually a shitty book).
It’s all about mind expansion.
Reading will do things to your brain that TV, radio, sports, video games and every other media availabe can’t begin to touch.
Reading is like steroids for your brain. Seriously. (Heavy readers don’t often suffer dementia later in life.)
And, as a marketer trying to woo the masses…
… it really pays to be that guy who is well-read, informed, hip and comfy in the larger culture.
You have more to say. You say it better.
And you get read.
You do not have to be a “great” writer to be a successful marketer.
In fact, like me, your grammar can blow chunks. And you may use too much slang, and violate lots of other “rules” of formal writing.
Doesn’t matter.
It’s all about communication.
About grabbing your reader, and dragging them into your world, where they will become so engaged and enthralled… that they stay, and absorb, and bond, and buy.
Something to consider, as the competition heats up in every online market out there.
Stay frosty,
John Carlton
P.S. What are you reading now?
Anything good? I’m always horny for new leads on good readin’…
P.P.S. Oh, yeah…
The flagship site, www.marketingrebel.com, has changed. The brand spankin’ new, updated for today’s hip online marketer version of “Kick-Ass Copywriting Secrets of a Marketing Rebel” is now available.
P.P.P.S. And one more thing…
We’ve put together a KILLER webinar on how to get emails delivered and read, which is going to be available soon in audio/visual format.
Even fabulously successful marketers botch their email campaigns, you know. Their carefully-crafted messages too often end up in junk folders, labeled as spam.
And even when their emails do get through, the feeble writing gets them tossed quickly by busy, impatient readers.
We can change all that. It’s the subject of the webinar.
However… right now, to get advance notice of how to get your hands on this webinar, you need to sign onto the blog here (if you haven’t previously).
We’re only letting folks on our house lists in on this opportunity.
And it’s coming up fast. To get more info, just sign in here with your name and email address.
We’re sending out advance notice in a day or two…
Monday, 5:08pm
Reno, NV
“Once more into the breach, dear friends…” Henry V (by the Bard)
Howdy…
I’m a little ticked off here, so forgive me if I start ranting.
And you may disagree with me completely.
If you do, good — I want to hear your rebuttal.
Here’s what this is about:
Do you watch TMZ?
What do you think of it?
It’s addictive, I’ll tell you that much. I was just walking by the boob-tube last night, minding my own biz, when I caught sight of a single clip on some train-wreck celeb being bad.
Man, I think we’re hard-wired for gossip and shit like this. I just stood there, mesmerized, for half an hour.
I escaped, finally, during a long commerical break (hah!).
But just barely.
The show — if you’re mercifully unaware of it — is an hour, each Sunday evening, of a “behind the scenes” meeting of a typical tabloid/papparazzi staff of idiots. They talk smack about celebrities, while airing the nastiest video they can buy, steal or swindle.
It’s red meat for our celeb-obsessed culture.
And you watch it, mouth agape, the way you might watch an actual train wreck in progress.
If you’re lucky, after watching all this dirty-laundry crap, you just shrug off any larger meta-implications about our civilization and go to sleep.
If, like me, you’re not lucky that way…
… you start to wonder about when — not if — the hammer of history is coming down on us.
For me, last night, the epiphany came while the smarmy producers were ragging on two musical heroes of mine.
These two guys were doing nothing but being themselves. Weird, outlandish, and abnormal, yes. But they’ve never pretended to be anything else.
They were:
1. George Clinton — the Godfather of Funk, founder of the group Funkadelic, and all-around rhythmic bad ass.
2. And Sly Stone, of Sly and the Family Stone.
If you’ve never seen the Family’s live version of “Take You Higher” from the Woodstock (1969 edition) movie, your soul is just a little bit poorer for the lack.
It’s goooooooooood.
And, for those of you paying attention, I’ve been asking the sound guys at seminars to use Funkadelic’s “We Got The Funk” as my intro music when I hit the stage for a lecture.
Gets the crowd in the right mood.
My own life would have been infinitely more dismal without these two greats contributing to the soundtrack of the last half of the twentieth century. They’re both in the Rock Hall of Fame, and deserve to be there.
Back to TMZ…
The rat-bastards on this show pretend to be hipper than thou. “Oh, look at Suzy Starlet, puking in the alley behind Spago’s, she’s such a loser tee hee hee…”
Sure, there are no lack of celebrities out there dying to have their sex tape, or their latest brush with the law, or their inside story of rehab prominently displayed on TMZ and the other trashy shows and magazines feeding the mob.
But you go too far when you spit on the reputation of folks just being themselves.
Really.
Who the hell are you to giggle at dudes like Sly and George Freaking Clinton?
The TMZ doofus producers have no talent. And they seriously confuse real “coolness” with the false bravado of sarcasm.
They pretend to a hipness they do not possess. They are clueless about the actual “value” of the beauty around them, and obsess on the ugliness they can laugh at.
This is the kind of attitude that made so many of my generation eager to drop out of society, and go try something else.
Yes, George Clinton is a startling sight at age sixty, in his day-glo wig and flowing robes. So what?
And Sly may or may not be cross-dressing a bit these days. Again — the cat’s a frigging genius. And he’s not hurting anybody being weird.
In fact, we are better off as a civilization with artists like this challenging our smug certainties and zombie stupification.
At some point in my lifetime, the whole concept of what is “cool” slipped from describing your attitude about life — your mindset and philosophy and willingness to engage with gusto, even if it entailed risk — and morphed into being about fashion.
So let’s get straight: You are not “cool” because you dress well, or look good.
“Cool” is in your head and your heart. It requires a functioning brain and a feeling heart — attributes the yo-yo’s at TMZ have never brushed up against.
It’s been twelve hours since I accidentally saw that show last night… and I’m still seething.
None of those tittering TMZ nabobs have produced anything of value in their entire lives.
If life plays out the way it should, all of them are headed for karmic blow-outs designed to force-feed a little humility and respect into their jaded skulls.
Man, I’m steaming.
I gotta go listen to some funk, and mellow out…
Love to hear what you think about all this.
Stay frosty,
John Carlton
P.S. In case you’re wondering about the title here, “bread and circus” was the way The Man kept control in ancient Rome — by feeding the mob with free bread, and entertaining them at the Coliseum with gladiator fights and lions eating Christians.
Funny to think our modern “high tech circus” is a direct descendant of killing people. It includes the Olympics (as well as every organized sporting event, at every level), Vegas, rock shows, and every single second of television ever transmitted.
It’s all mob control.
Thursday, 5:31pm
Reno, NV
“Quivers down my kneebone… I got the shakes in my thighbone…” Guess Who (“Shakin’ All Over”)
Howdy,
Have you ever been so freakin’ nervous you almost lost control of bodily functions?
Two things made me suddenly think about this unseemly subject.
First Thing: We have an Afghan hound in the house with a bark that rattles windows four blocks away… and he has come thisclose to eating the mailman, the Fed Ex guy, three neighbors, and a flock of Jehovah’s Witnesses who dared knock on the door.
And that’s just over the past month or so.
But here’s the kicker: He will break down into a sobbing lump of useless self-pity if Michele or I so much as look at him cross-eyed.
His bark is a mask for the social vulnerability he suffers.
He doesn’t really want to rip out your throat.
Deep inside, he’s just a confused, awkward puppy, trapped in an adult dog’s body. Scared shitless of the world. (Literally shitless, whenever fireworks or lightning are nearby.) (Yeah, it’s a mess.)
Second Thing: I was recently advising someone about “getting his ass out in the marketplace as an expert”… and the guy actually started shaking.
Just the thought of stepping onto the metaphorical stage of life, and performing… sent this poor guy into a stuttering implosion.
He not only had no “bark”… he had no cojones, either.
This got me thinking about my own journey from stuttering fear-meister to swaggering bluster-bomb.
It’s relevant… because, in business, my line is: If you truly have a great product that your prospect should own… then shame on you if you don’t step forward confidently and BE that guy he needs you to be… so he can feel good about buying.
You can’t sell from your heels, people.
(I love to trot out the old quote by Keith Richards of the Rolling Stones: “It’s not that I’m all that great of a guitar player, you know. It’s just that I can step out in front of ten thousand people and DO it.”)
(Talent comes in WAY behind cojones when it comes to carving out your niche.)
Anyway, back to me…
I am not an extrovert by any stretch.
In fact, I chart pretty heavily toward “total thumb-sucking, light-avoiding, cave-dwelling introvert” in basic personality tests.
You can tell an introvert from an extrovert pretty easily: When the extro is around people, like at a party, he gets energized. The introvert finds it a chore, and leaves the event drained.
It’s all about energy transference.
Now, I was lucky to grow up with a sizeable contingent of good friends — who I went all the way from kindergarten through high school with — which saved me from having to “make” new friends until I hustled off to college.
And, in college, for whatever reason, I was immediately taken in by a group of goofballs who somehow saw my potential for furthering their goofball yearnings.
However, it took me a long time to get to “know” most of these people.
Seriously. It was decades before I finally felt comfortable around most of them.
Nearly all of the people I’m close to, I’ve been close to for half my life. (I’ve known my business partner, Stan, for 25 years, and our contract writer, Mark, since we were nineteen.)
I tell you this to illustrate how ill-equiped I was to become a guru.
I stuttered as a kid… and frequently found myself getting stuck on words as an adult whenever I encountered uncomfortable situations.
Meaning, any new situation where people I didn’t know were looking at me.
In grade school — back when I was convinced that everybody else knew things they weren’t sharing with me (and that’s why life seemed like such a mystery) — I even burst into tears in class math competitions. (One little girl — Peggy The Bitch, I call her — repeatedly tripped me up with the question “What’s 5 times 0?” I nearly always said “5!” before realizing my blunder and being told to sit down while the rest of the class continued the competition.)
(Ah, childhood humiliation. What a concept.)
As a teen, a good (longtime) friend convinced me to learn guitar so we could start playing in bands. He wanted the excitement and recognition of being on stage. I just got a thrill from playing music.
So he fronted the many bands we formed, happily, from center-stage… and I happily lurked near the far edge, out of the limelight, content to concentrate on the tunes.
I was kinda like Garth, from Wayne’s World. Thrust into the action on the coattails of a raging extrovert.
Freelancing was a natural for me. It required long, lonely hours inside your head… and you were excused from looking like the regular “suits” in the agencies because, as a writer, the more outrageous you appeared, the more they believed you must possess the “goods”.
Idiots.
Halbert, of course, was THE uber-extrovert. He publicly listed his main hobby as “finding new methods of self-aggrandizement”.
I stayed behind the scenes as much as possible. My main job, in fact, during seminars was to handle everything but the actual delivery of the action onstage.
It was Halbert’s show, and I liked it that way.
I had defined myself as an introvert, and never considered it could be any other way.
I even had a “defining moment” — back in college, when I was introduced to my first “real” girlfriend’s beloved sister, I started laughing uncontrollably. Not because anything was funny… but because my body betrayed me, and just went off in an inappropriate spasm.
I was humiliated, because after lamely stuttering about why I had burst out with guffaws (I could come with nothing good to explain myself), the awkwardness just got deeper and deeper. My girlfriend forgave me (and even sorta found it endearing — I was her “bad boy” artistic-type boyfriend, so weirdness was expected).
But her sister forever thought I was an A-Number One Doofus Jerk-Off.
Rightly so, I might add.
Around uncomfortable situations, I was that guy.
However…
After, oh, around thirty gazillion private consultations and Hot Seats and meetings with clients once I became a sought-after pro… all of whom initially tried to “alpha male” me into submission, because they wanted the writer (me) to be their slave…
… I started to think that maybe I had unwisely “defined” myself.
As anyone who has gotten freelance advice from me knows, I quickly learned to walk into a new client’s life and OWN the bastard. I knew that I held all the cards — he needed copy, couldn’t produce it himself to save his life, and thus was in zero position to be dictating terms to me.
I ain’t shy, professionally.
Now, my technique may or may not help others. (I developed a “stage personality” for these consultations I called Dr. Smooth… and let this “alternative John” take over.)
(And damn, but that Doctor was good at taking control and bullying clients.)
It’s a standard tactic, adapted from acting. No big deal, nothing revelatory about it.
However…
What it did for me was immediately obliterate that old “defining moment” that I had regarded as my “fate”.
I wasn’t really a socially-retarded loser.
I just played one in life.
Cuz I thought I’d been… assigned… the role.
If you’ve ever seen me speak at seminars, you know I’m no wallflower these days. I’m totally comfy in front of any size crowd, because the “mystery” of what’s going on has been solved in my mind.
It’s not about me.
It’s about the content of what I share.
(Plus, of course, I know so much about the people in the audience nowadays… from all those decades of delving into the psychology of salesmanship… that I don’t even need to imagine anyone naked to be calm.)
(It’s just us folks in the room. Good people looking for good info, plus maybe a little entertainment along the way. And a speaker line-up of “just-plain-dudes” having fun in the limelight.)
My point: You can do what you need to do.
If your market is crying out for someone to stand up and be the go-to-guy… you really can do it.
Like Keith Richards, you can get your chops honed to a degree that gives you enough confidence to be “onstage” (however you define the stage — it can be your website, an actual stage, or infomercials or any other media)… where you will deliver what the folks paid to see.
There are vast armies of “experts” out there (especially online) with no more real skill or insight or knowledge than you have.
Often, they have less.
What they DO have, that so many others refuse to cultivate, are the cojones to step up and BE that guy the audience needs you to be.
I can tell you this with absolute certainty (because I personally know it’s true): Most of the top guru’s in the entrepreneurial world — especially online — are former dweebs, stutterers, social outcasts and semi-dangerous nutcases.
They are, essentially, gawky and lonely and scared little kids trapped inside an adult’s body.
What they have done, however…
… is to re-define WHO they are when it counts.
Everyone, at some time or another, feels the urge to crawl back into bed and pull the covers over their head. Life is tough, business tougher. Hamlet’s slings and arrows constantly rain on everyone’s parade, and NO ONE gets a pass.
However…
… the winners define themselves.
I’m still an introvert. I still have my awkward social moments. I still occasionally stutter.
But those things do not define me.
Long ago, I threw away the role “assigned” to me… and just created my own new one. Which allows me to do whatever needs doing to further my goals… including climbing up on stage alone and engaging a thousand people as a ringleader.
Life sucks when you’re crawling around under the weight of unnecessary self-loathing, self-pity and self-expectations you can never meet.
Life rocks when you re-cut the jigsaw of your personality, and make something new according to who YOU want to be.
Just food for thought.
Love to hear your experiences with self-defining moments.
It’s heartening to hear so many commenters in past blogs finally come to grips with internal battles they’ve sometimes struggled with for years.
Hey — it’s fun when this stuff starts working.
Stay frosty,
John Carlton
www.carltoncoaching.com
P.S. We are very close to finishing up a new venture here that — if you crave rollicking adventure in your business life — will absolutely light up many people’s worlds.
It’s a limited opportunity… but the folks who truly know, in your heart, that one of the spots was meant for you… will instantly understand what has to happen to get involved.
Just a few more days…
Thursday, 7:26pm
Reno, NV
“You know how to whistle, don’t you? You just put your lips together… and blow.” Bacall, shutting Bogart up nicely
Howdy…
Hey, what kind of car do you drive?
Is it your dream car?
Do you even care what it looks like, or how it performs?
As a certified Boomer (who won’t shut up talking about Boomer-oriented shit), my heart has been broken by the automotive industry.
These days, I barely care about cars at all. I drive a Ford small SUV, mostly. (It’s actually the same size as the old Dodge vans I craved in my youth, and never owned.) (You know, the vans parked backwards at the drive-in, with the bumper sticker “If this van’s a rockin’, don’t bother knockin'”.)
(Oh, you don’t remember? Well, just take my word for it… vans were a cultural icon, and the VW minibus made a VERY different statement than a Ram B-series “adult toy” van.) (You’ll have to get me drunk to hear the good stories on this topic, of course…)
I treat the Ford like crap. Wash it maybe once a year, use the passenger side floor as a trash can, keep the back seats down and the dog beds in there as permanent furniture.
I actually enjoy driving it. Sunroof, decent stereo, and all that raw Ford 6-banger power.
Woof!
Of course, I’ve only put a few thousand miles on it after three years. (And most of those have come from our trips to the coast.) I work at home, walk everywhere I can, stay barefoot and happy and off the roads.
However…
My knees still buckle at the sight of a cherry ’55 Bel Air, or a ’62 Impala, or those growling muscle cars from the late sixties/early seventies. Reno has something called “Hot August Nights” every summer, and for a week, every bitchin’ automobile in the country (and many from overseas) is cruisin’ Virginia Street and crowding into viewing lots like a nest o’ nostalgia.
Now, I know that regulation saves lives and all that.
Still, I blame Ralph Nader and his do-gooder ilk for the descent into blah-ness that car design has sunk. No more fins, no more death-grin grills, no more suicide doors.
No more fun.
I remember the crucial day, in the early seventies, when someone stopped by to show off her brand-new Mustang.
I was horrified. The interior was a misshapen hulk of cheap plastic, and the lines of the body were breathtakingly dull.
What the hell had they done to that once-bitchin’ car? It’s like they were giving the finger to the Car God.
The GMC Gremlin had more personality. Heck, the infamous Pinto was a better looking design. (And in the late 80s, when the geniuses at Ford finally attempted some kind of retro re-do of the ‘Stang, they botched it totally. There is no soul left in Detroit, I’m sorry, man…)
The closest any automaker came to putting some oomph into design, after that, was Toyota. The 1980 Celica GT Hatchback was easily the ugliest car ever to roll off an assembly line. I gasped when I saw my first one.
Ah, but inside… it was like a super-snug cockpit. You slid into the bucket seat, and the dash embraced you, promising nasty highway fun.
The night I bought one, I drove up and down the central California coast with the ocean breeze coming in tangy and warm, and the amber dash lights lulling me into long dreamy stretches in fifth gear.
I actually lived out of that car for six months. Slept on friends’ couches when I could, but curled up in the back when I had to tuck into a hidey-hole lot somewhere to catch some zzz’s.
It became the infamous rattletrap I had when I began my freelance career. I kept it alive by sheer force of will. Brought a gallon of water down each morning to fill up the radiator, and kept a quart of oil in the backseat (used and replaced weekly).
When I turned her ignition off on that last day, she never roared to life again. I had driven her literally until she dropped, an exhausted, broken-blocked disaster with a date at the wrecking yard.
I teared up as she was towed away.
Still the most beautiful machine I’ve ever had in my life. For a full ten years, she had been my partner in escape, adventure and entrepreneurship.
Toyota broke the mold on that amazing car.
No, they literally broke the mold. They only produced that paticular model, with the in-your-face ugly lines and bizarre grill, for two years, I believe. Then they went boringly into “coupe land” (trying, like everyone else, to emulate the blocky Beemer model 2002).
I learned something about salesmanship through that car, though.
See, every single time someone would see it for the first time (especially after it was a few years old, and one of the few remaining unique designs left on the road)… they would whistle, or roll their eyes, or make some disparaging remark.
Which was fine. Whatever.
But once in a while, I’d insist they get in, and I’d drive them around and tell them stories about advenuters we (the car and I) had enjoyed. I made them sit in the driver’s cockpit, and soak up the amber grin of the dashboard lights. Feel how the stick shift melted into your hand like an extension of your arm.
Then I put them back in the passenger seat, rolled out into the street, and opened ‘er up on a straightaway, nailing their skulls back into the headrest.
I never got anyone to agree with me on how gorgeous that car was. (Beauty, beholder, and all that.)
But I did get almost everyone to understand why she was so much friggin’ fun to drive.
Fast forward a bunch of years.
Michele and I both yearned for some top-down driving. Living in snow country, convertibles were contra-indicated, however.
So we went in together and bought a third car. A “just for fun” car.
A Mazda Miata.
Oh, you’re sputtering, aren’t you?
That little piece of wannabe sports car?
Almost always, people grill me on “why”. They know I could afford a nice high-end sports car. A Porshe, a Beemer, a Mercedes… anything but that cheesy little Miata!
What was I thinking?
And I proceed to shut them up.
Did you know the history of the Miata? It was designed by Japanese engineers who swooned at the sight of the most classic sports roadsters of the fifties — the MG ragtops, the Truimph Spitfires, even the Lotus Elan.
Oh, there was and still is magic in the chrome, leather and glass of those amazing cars. The flow of the lines, the obvious shared DNA of WWII fighter planes, the wind-in-your hair exhilaration every time you passed thirty mph… those roadsters were the ultimate cocky bastards of the burgeoning American highway system.
There was just one problem.
The engines sucked.
In fact, the first question anyone asked you, after discovering you owned a MG Midget, was “Who’s your mechanic?”
So, for lazy guys like me, the ragtop remained an elusive dream. (I got deep into car culture as a teenager, but was more interested in the cartooning that accompanied the scene. Rat Fink, many of the guys from Mad, the expansion of pin-striping and flames and custom paint jobs with illustrations all intrigued me more than the grease-monkey details of conquering internal combustion. While other guys made goo-goo eyes at engine parts shrewn across the garage floor, I was too busy learning cross-hatch shading to get dirty.)
Enter the visionairies at Mazda.
They used the classic sports roadsters as their Holy Grail… and to a shocking degree, nailed it.
Pick up an issue of Car & Driver, or Road And Track, and see what those hard-to-please writers have to say about the Miata.
Hint: They love it.
I read as many of those articles as I could, going back to the introduction of the Miata twenty years ago. And every writer followed the same story line: They were skeptical… and then won over easily during their first test drive.
The Miata won’t win any races out there. But neither would those ancient UK and Italian ragtops.
The convertible ride isn’t about speed.
It’s about a brisk, smooth ride with five gears and top down… and every line of sight from the cockpit guilded with pure joyful design.
I’ve wanted my own thrashed-yet-dependable MG ragtop all my adult life… and with the Miata, I have the entire experience. Minus the undependable engine.
That Miata is a stud, and it can’t wait to get out on the road.
You wanna denigrate it, cuz it ain’t got G-force speed or deep-pocket sticker-shock pedigree?
Fine.
But you’re dissing the classic roadster, dude.
This puppy is FUN to drive.
Most people aren’t prepared to be assaulted with actual affection for the car, when they insult it. “Hey, you got your girlfriend’s car today, huh?” Snicker.
Nope. It’s our car, and I love it. It’s a direct linear descendent of the MG… etc.
Shuts ’em up.
And you know what? People may fall back into their prior dismissal, after I’m gone… cuz the default opinion of the Miata (especially among men with weak confidence) is pretty strongly negative.
But when I see them later… a glimmer of a spark flashes in their eyes, even if they refuse to acknowledge the specialness of the Miata.
That glimmer… is the recognition that, through my story, they felt the raw heat of honest passion and affection coming off me. I’ve had guys who don’t even allow words like “passion” into their vocabulary admit that, around me, they understand how cool the car kinda is.
They’re not gonna rush out and buy one, of course.
But they do shut up. And consider a whole new and unexpected line of thought, contrary to their prior stance.
Hard-ass guys who wouldn’t flinch losing a finger in a lathe, will have to stifle a tear remembering going to their first baseball game with their Pop. Or the birth of their daughter. Or the last time they hung out with friends on a warm summer’s evening, half a lifetime ago when the world seemed… better.
And their first car?
Fuhget about it.
And pass the kleenex.
The memories that sustain most folks are too vague to be translated as meaningful stories. When you learn to put your feelings and thoughts and graphic detail into a tale — about anything — you possess a power to sway emotion and influence people.
As the Zen master once said… to become eloquent, you must first learn to shut up.
You actually do people a favor by crushing the thoughtless, meandering babble occupying their brains… and bringing new things into focus with a story that makes sense to their heart, as well as their head.
Something to think about, in your quest to learn the art of persuasion.
Stay frosty,
John Carlton
P.S. What was your first car?
P.P.S. Just a reminder: I’ll be on the road until the first week in July, so this blog may see spotty posts.
However, in normal situations, I’m posting every Monday and Thursday. Like freakin’ clockwork.
Sign up to be notified, in the box up there on the right. Yeah, I know you’re swamped with stuff to read… but really, this should be one of your first stops, twice a week.
Enjoy the summer as it starts to blossom…
P.P.S. Extra bonus story: The most classic American sports convertible — and even die-hard Corvette fans won’t argue too strongly against this — was the ’55 Thunderbird. (Astonishingly, even the design changes that car went through in the following six years were all stellar. Then, for reasons only the honchos at Ford can explain, they killed the T-Bird as a sports car, and re-birthed it as a mid-size sedan.) (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)
I met one of the guys who helped with the design of that original T-Bird. They were artists. They broke rules, they took inspiration from the best of the Italian elbow-draggers, they channeled Hollywood sci-fi and art deco and Navy submarines… and they fussed over every detail of that design until it was perfect.
Not perfect in any crash-test way. Not perfect, even, in aeronautical glide.
No.
It was perfect in the way Michealangelo’s David is perfect — the T-Bird was a design funneled through nature, physics, and art, and rolled onto the showroom floor with a thumbs-up from the gods.
What a car. The stuff of dreams…
Monday, 2:19pm
Reno, NV
“C’mere, I wanna talk to you…” A mugger in Ry Cooder’s “Down In Hollywood”
Howdy…
While down in San Diego for the Kern seminar, I managed to grab a couple of meals with Jeff Walker (of Launch Formula fame).
Always a treat to hang out with Jeff — smart cookie, funny, lives life according to his own damn rules.
Plus, he always says shit that makes me think.
This time, while everyone else was yammering at the table (one of the perks of going to these events is sharing meals with groups of fascinating folks)… Jeff leaned over and asked me something that has been gnawing at my brain for a month now.
“Do you think,” he whispered, “there’s a crisis in copywriting right now?”
For the few minutes we had to talk, he laid out a harrowing plot line: Increasingly, top marketers who are quite capable of writing their own stuff (like Jeff, and Rich Schefren, and Tellman Knudsen, and Mike Filsaime, and dozens of others) are hiring copywriters to handle the task.
Hey — even pro scribes like me are always on the lookout for hot talent to tackle some of the mounting writing chores that any successful online biz encounters.
And here’s the rub: Increasingly, freelance copywriters have learned to “talk” a good game… but can’t walk the walk.
They’re asking for — and getting — top fees.
And then either screwing up the project, or delivering inferior work.
This is not good, people.
I probably share some of the blame for this miserable state of affairs. Back when I started my freelance career (last century), freelancers were not treated well. You were more like a vendor, a guy merely supplying an unimportant service, and respect was hard to come by.
You often got paid last, almost as an afterthought. And you were expected to follow the whims of the client like a good slave, and not rock the boat.
I quickly decided this was bullshit. Most of the clients I had in the first couple of years — and this included veteran direct response agencies (who should have known better) — were so clueless about good selling strategies… that it would have been a CRIME to allow them to dictate what was written.
So I spoke up, argued, and insisted on following my “Gun To The Head” philosophy of writing what was NEEDED… not what would please the client.
This necessitated a chance in client-management, too. Rather than come in sheepishly, hat in hand, and act like a vendor… I realized I needed to blow the doors down and OWN the joint if I was gonna be a successful freelancer.
The strategy was simple, and based on experience: Most clients needed a freelance copywriter because they (or their staff) couldn’t write an ad that worked.
I knew how to do that.
Therefore… I was sort of like “the adult in the room”. The guy who could clearly see what was going on, what was needed, and how to do it.
In fact… whenever I delivered finished copy that the client “loved”… I knew I’d failed.
The best copy isn’t safe and nice and loveable.
It’s dangerous.
I wanted my clients nervous as hell, and squirming as they read the ad. My job wasn’t to make them happy. It was to make the ad a success.
To do that — to get into the position where I could push “the right thing” through — required a very ballsy attitude. Take no prisoners. BE that guy who demands and deserves respect… and who proves his worth by ACTIONS.
You don’t earn that kind of respect by talking a good game.
Naw. You earn it by earning it. By doing your job, over and over, and producing results that prove you know what you’re doing.
Back in my bachelor days, I remember meeting many guys who lied about their circumstances in order to get the attention of women.
“But you don’t really own a Porsche,” I would say. “And you’ve never sold a screenplay to Hollywood.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Mr Suave And Debonair would reply. “It’s all about perception.”
Oh yeah?
These guys would actually “get” the initial attention they craved. And, I guess if you’re after the most shallow and fleeting relationship encounters possible, sometimes they were “successful”.
But it always seemed creepy to me. Bare-faced dishonesty should trigger shame in your heart, not elation at gaming the system.
On the other hand…
… when you actually possess “the goods”… the real crime is in hiding from your responsibility to do what you need to do to accomplish “the right thing.”
If, as a copywriter, you know from experience and talent what should be done in a project or ad… then pure professionalism demands that you stand up and make your case.
If that requires a little attitude, maybe a little bullying or bludgeoning of the client, then that is part of your job: You treat the gig as if the business was yours, and the consequences personal.
Top writers do that. They are, despite working for a fee, partners with you for the duration of the job. (The best of the best often work on a percentage of the deal, which makes them real partners… with a very real stake in the results.)
The lower rungs of the freelance world are still valuable, of course. There are mountains of writing jobs out there that do not require the attention of wise veterans who’ve been around the block a bunch of times.
I’m not going to dis any copywriter out there who is willing to accept “fulfillment” jobs, where no input from him is expected or wanted — you just need to write a coherent piece of copy that clearly communicates what the client needs communicated. I’ve done that in my career (even after I adopted the “hard-core pro attitude” for most jobs). Sometimes, you just need to apply your skills as a communicator of the written word, and leave your attitude and consulting and “making ’em squirm” tactics back at the office.
HOWEVER…
This “crisis” that Jeff was talking about almost entirely stems from this attitude thing.
Here’s what’s happened: A whole generation of freelancers have learned how to talk their way into getting big gigs.
And they simply do not have either the skills or the experience to pull off what’s required.
This sucks. Both for the freelancer — who gets tarred with a bad reputation — and for the client, who is out the hefty fee… and still doesn’t have copy he can use.
I wrote the notorious “Freelance Manual” five years ago, ironically, to try to nip this situation in the bud. I saw two things happening, as a result of the explosion of marketing online:
1. There was a growing need for good copy… and…
2. There was a dearth of good copywriters able to do any of it.
That Freelance Course is not available right now. This is not a pitch for it. You couldn’t get it even if you wanted it, for any price.
No.
I’m trying to make a point here: In that course, I had exactly three sections.
“Get Good” was the first section.
“Get Connected” was the middle section.
And “Get Paid” was the last.
That course created a bit of a sensation among would-be freelancers. It was the first time a pro had let rookies and outsiders “in” on the tactics of managing clients, networking with the Big Boys, and negotiating huge fees.
That trilogy — get good, get connected, and get paid — is still the foundation for a fabulous (and fabulously wealthy) freelance career…
… but…
… you gotta embrace the entire model.
You can’t skip the “get good” part. That’s where you earn the right to “get paid”.
What Jeff Walker has noticed is the tip of the iceberg out there. Since hearing it from him, I’ve since heard complaints from a huge section of the marketers I hang with… all on the subject of freelance copywriters presenting themselves as something other than what they are.
They talk a great game. They get the big fees. They seem connected, they network well, and they know how to manage clients.
But they forgot to get good at what they are supposed to do to earn those big fees.
In that Freelance Course, I made what I thought was a clear warning: Do not attempt to break into the “A” list of clients until you are ready.
How do you know if you’re ready?
If you have to ask… then you’re not ready.
The best writers have all served some kind of long apprenceticeship, where they were free to make mistakes and learn from them… without hurting their reputations, or hurting any big client who took a shot with them.
The lucky ones found mentors, who personally took them under wing and taught them the ropes.
The Freelance Course was meant to fill in the blanks for those many writers who couldn’t find a mentor.
The writers who followed my advice in that course (the first one of its kind) have done rather well for themselves. They get the best jobs, for the biggest fees, and they enjoy sterling reputations among marketers who hire freelancers.
They are a minority, however, it seems.
Whether the mob of freelancers out there mucking up the joint ever saw my course or not (and there are now several other guides to freelancing out there that are just fine) I cannot say.
One thing is certain, though: Too many are not learning to walk the walk before they get up on the soapbox and start talking the talk.
In business, when you’re the bottom-line owner, you will find out quickly if you have what it takes to thrive. Reality will smack you down in a hurry if you skip the fundamentals, or try to game the system without paying your dues and learning the ropes.
Freelancers, however, can actually hover above the rules of consequence. For a time, anyway. They get paid to produce an ad, and they can walk away from the project afterward.
This is NOT an excuse to do shoddy work. Pro’s — the real heroes of copywriting, the guys who become legends and own reputations that read like novels — throw themselves into every project with full force. There is NEVER an excuse to give less than 100% — if you accept a job, you are a partner in the project until you’ve done what needs to be done.
So, I suppose this is a warning shot across the bow of freelancers out there.
The top marketers — the guys who WILL pay top dollar for copy — are aware of this crisis.
And they talk with each other.
The rewards of taking the time to get good, before you start negotiating the big buck fees, are staggering. (And you can still earn a handsome living while you’re honing your chops and putting your nose to the grindstone, learning and getting experience.)
The damage, however, that you do by presenting yourself as something you’re not… is permanent and will murder your career.
Freelancing is a wonderful profession. But you don’t just waltz into it fully formed. You gotta master the craft.
Clients can suck. That’s a primal lesson all freelancers learn early, especially when they mentor under me.
However, when you are able to confidently swim the choppy waters of writing for multiple markets (and multiple clients), it’s all just part of a day’s work.
The clients may suck, the job may require you to think overtime and sweat more than you’d prefer at the keyboard (doing draft after draft until it’s right)… and your gut may wince at the moments of severest anxiety (like just before results come in).
But it ain’t digging ditches, is it.
It’s earning a living (and a damn good one, too) doing something you SHOULD love: Writing.
Copy is the foundation of business. All business, and all marketing. No video, website, print ad, email, text message, direct mail letter, fax, infomercial, radio spot, or anything else with a sales message… is created without someone sitting down and knocking out the copy. (Even “spontaneous” video is “written” — though the “script” may be in your head, assembled a nano-second before coming out of your mouth. It’s still copy. It’s still gotta be created.)
Writing is, in fact, the foundation of civilization as we know it. Scribes have always held a special place in society, because they are masters of communication.
Respect the gig.
Actually get good before you tell clients you’re good.
Don’t be shy about honestly assessing what you can do for any given client, and neotiating a truly fair fee that is a win-win for both of you.
You’re worth a higher fee when what you produce can quickly bring measureable results that make your pay irrelevant, because your stuff works.
This current crisis will end, one way or another, as the freelancers who actually produce are identified. The marketers with deep pockets are wary, pissed off and getting increasingly hip to how they can get “taken” by not-yet-ready-for-prime-time writers.
I do not understand why so many rookie writers are in a breathless hurry to get the big fees.
The ride is half the fun, people. Earning your success is a thousand times more satisfying than gaming the system… and it’s worth more, too.
Okay.
Warning shot fired, and canon put away.
What do you think about all this? I’d love to hear from both freelancers and marketers who hire freelancers…
Stay frosty,
John Carlton
P.S. If mentoring is something you feel you need, in order to get your own ride going at top speed… don’t forget the opportunities of my coaching club.
Just read the copy on this link, and see if it isn’t something that fits the bill for you.
Free trials, you know.
Just a thought — if you’re considering moving ahead in your career, especially online.
Here’s the link:
http://www.carltoncoaching.com
