25

Jan

by Jeff

I recently came across this fas­ci­nat­ing post about Apple Mar­ket­ing prin­ci­ples, as artic­u­lated by Apple circa 1977.  Here they are:

2012-01-04_1512

Now, as a mar­keter, the Empa­thy and Focus parts are sec­ond nature — at least in terms of under­stand­ing.  Putting them into prac­tice every day is harder stuff, but any copy­writer that doesn’t under­stand the impor­tance of empathiz­ing with the prospec­tive cus­tomer and focus­ing in on their pri­mary buy­ing moti­va­tions and con­cerns isn’t a copy­writer at all.

It’s the last ele­ment most mar­keters and copy­writ­ers screw up or over­look: the impor­tance of Imputed Qual­ity.  Not nuts and bolts, specification-driven build qual­ity or value for the dol­lar qual­ity.  But qual­ity cues that tap into buy­ers’ pre-existing men­tal imprint of lux­ury and vir­tu­ous man­u­fac­ture.  The telling detail that says everything.

Want to see an exam­ple of imputed qual­ity used in copy?  Here ya go:

ogilvy-rolls-royce-ad

Notice that the actual build qual­ity is detailed by the bul­let points of the body copy, while the imputed qual­ity — the telling detail — is given pride of place within the head­line of the ad itself.*

Of course, this sort of qual­ity cue or imputed qual­ity fac­tor has to be already exist­ing or freshly baked into the prod­uct or ser­vice itself before it can be adver­tised, but rec­og­niz­ing the need for it — and doing the patient research and dig­ging to find it — is one of the major keys to writ­ing copy that works.

Apple of course, is a mas­ter at this, which is one rea­son they are renowned design icons, because inspired design imputes high qual­ity. But it’s also why Apple never skimps on screen qual­ity, key­board feel, and the over­all pol­ish put on their user inter­faces: those are the sort of tan­gi­ble, expe­ri­en­tial things that impute quality.

Yes, of course, we expect real qual­ity from an Apple prod­uct in the sense of free­dom from typ­i­cal PC-like annoy­ances, annoy­ances bril­liantly dra­ma­tized and mocked by Apple’s “I’m a Mac” cam­paign.  But even if you knew noth­ing about Apple or PCs and just LOOKED at the com­pet­ing prod­ucts laid side by side, you’d intu­itively get that one set of prod­ucts were spe­cial and nicer than the rest.  Regard­less of how their inter­nal com­po­nents and specs stacked up.

So Here Are My 3 Take­aways from This:

1) Qual­ity is impor­tant, but qual­ity with­out imputed qual­ity will go unre­warded in the marketplace.

2) Busi­ness own­ers should never expect cus­tomers to rec­og­nize qual­ity and should “bake” imputed qual­ity into their offerings.

3) Copy­writ­ers who fail to use imputed qual­ity cues will end up with under­per­form­ing ad copy.

P.S. — Want to see an already-existing qual­ity cue in action? Check out these guys thud­ding the door closed on a Mercedes:

YouTube Preview Image

P.P.S. — How do I know that Ogilvy dili­gently searched for prod­uct facts that would help him find and rec­og­nize impor­tant qual­ity cues?  Because he listed research twice when explain­ing his copy­writ­ing method­ol­ogy!  Steps 3 and 5 both empha­size the impor­tance of research and facts.

* For a more detailed analy­sis of this famous Ogilvy Ad, check out my old GrokDot­com post.

Before the big iPhone unveil­ing today, if some­one told you that they had real pic­tures of what the next gen­er­a­tion of the iPhone looked like, and they just showed you some pho­tos, totally devoid of con­text, would you believe them?

Of course not. The claim lacks all credibility.

You can’t pos­si­bly look at pho­tos like that with­out wondering:

  • How could you pos­si­bly have got­ten these, given how pas­sion­ately Apple pro­tects their upcom­ing projects?
  • Even if you DID get legit­i­mate pho­tos, why aren’t Apple’s lawyers send­ing you a cease and desist letter?
  • What evi­dence do I pos­si­bly have that these are real, and weren’t sim­ply photoshopped?
  • And so on.

In short, the con­text is all wrong, so we just know the pho­tos are fakes (or “artists ren­di­tions,” at best). But what about this video?

YouTube Preview Image

Some­how, this video fooled a lot of peo­ple and cre­ated quite a stir before it was proven to be faked. But why? Why is this video so con­vinc­ing when the typ­i­cal “leaked” pho­tos aren’t?

Con­text.

The video pro­vides a con­text which pre­emp­tively answers all of these credibility-killing ques­tions and more.  Accord­ing to the non-verbal sto­ry­telling in the video, the guy who made the video acci­den­tally dis­cov­ered an “unre­leased” page to Apple’s Ger­man Web­site, and took a screen record­ing of it.  That’s how he got the pho­tos, that’s why Apple can’t stop him, because they’re the ones who put the con­tent on the Web, etc.

More impor­tantly, the very style of the Web pages cre­ated by this hoaxster con­vinces us.  When we look at these “acci­den­tally dis­cov­ered” Web pages, they look so faith­ful to Apple’s own design aes­thetic, and the pic­tures of the phone look so faith­ful to the rumors about the new iPhone (curved, metal back, larger screen, thin­ner, etc.) that we tend to believe that maybe the video is for real.

Mak­ing This Dynamic Work for You

The truth is that we ALL rely on con­text every day for almost every deci­sion we make.  Manip­u­late con­text and you manip­u­late people’s per­cep­tions and, ulti­mately, their deci­sions, too:

  • If you’re an ice cream par­lor and you sim­ply put can­is­ters of sam­ple spoons up on the counter, that con­text will cue peo­ple to ask for free tastes, with­out any other change required.
  • An HVAC guy who shows up in a corporate-branded truck and uni­form will look like he’s from a big com­pany, even if the com­pany con­sists entirely of him, his cell­phone, and that truck.
  • Tell me you have the best food in the city, and I’ll be a lot more likely to believe you if you serve that food on linen table cloths rather than plas­tic trays.

Good fic­tion writ­ers know the impor­tance of this instinc­tively, which is why they go to such lengths to estab­lish the right pre­text for their big moments — they “set you up” and then “pay it off” later. Though I am absolutely not advis­ing any­one to hoax their cus­tomers or to adopt a conman’s mind­set, I am ask­ing you to think about the believ­abil­ity of the claims you make, and how the right con­text can cre­ate cus­tomer con­fi­dence that you might not cre­ate any other way.

So what con­text cues are you using now, and what cues should you be using going forward?

7

Sep

by Jeff

selling-the-dream

When writ­ing copy for prod­ucts and ser­vices designed to help some­one do X, the best per­sua­sive tac­tic is to re-sell them on the dream.

In other words, when­ever prospects got into X in the first place, they did so because they had bought into a dream. For instance, most peo­ple take up blog­ging because they buy into the dream of blog­ging: be able to put their “voice” out into the world and find­ing an appre­cia­tive, recep­tive audi­ence that not only tweats, re-tweats, com­ments on, and for­wards their posts, but also find­ing finan­cial ben­e­fit through that same audi­ence buy­ing their books, come to their con­fer­ences, etc.  That’s the dream most peo­ple are chas­ing when they start up a blog.

Need­less to say, the real­ity fre­quently falls short of the dream.  And the frus­tra­tion at the gap is where the incen­tive to buy comes in.

So if you’re sell­ing a ser­vice to help peo­ple with their blog­ging, you not only want to sell the prospect on the ser­vice, but also re-sell them on the dream.  More specif­i­cally, you want to sell them on the abil­ity of your ser­vice to help them re-capture the dream.

Why?

Because they already bought into the dream once, and they haven’t yet given up on it (they’re still X–ing, aren’t they?), and noth­ing is eas­ier than sell­ing some­one on the dream they’ve already bought into.  Doesn’t mat­ter what the dream was, and it doesn’t mat­ter what indus­try you’re in; the eas­i­est sale you’ll ever make is sell­ing the prospect on the dream they’ve already dreamt.

Jonathan Morrow’s new prod­uct BoostBlogTraffic.com is a per­fect exam­ple of that. Check out the prod­uct announce­ment over at Copy­blog­ger and see for your­self.  What’s Jonathan doing for the first 2/3rds of the copy?  Invok­ing the frus­tra­tions and dream-reality gap involved in blog­ging, and then re-selling the blog­ging dream, baby!

Because Jonathan Mor­row knows what he’s doing.

  • So what dream where your prospects chas­ing when­ever they got into your market?
  • Are you mind­ing (and min­ing) the gap between the dream and the prospect’s cur­rent reality?
  • Does your copy re-kindle the dream?

22

May

by Jeff

Por­tals and Why They Matter

portalTak­ing it to the next level” is cliché. So is the phrase “he/she/it opened a lot of doors for me.” But peo­ple still reach for these phrases regard­less. There’s a rea­son for that.

Both phrases reflect an intu­itive under­stand­ing of tran­si­tions: that there’s always a thresh­old to cross. Bound­aries define an area, envi­ron­ment, or world. Move­ment past bound­aries neces­si­tates move­ment through open­ings in those bound­aries — or though por­tals, if you will.

So where there is change, there are por­tals, or so our sub­con­scious minds expect. But all too often, busi­nesses fail to meet our sub­con­scious expec­ta­tion for portals.

Busi­nesses usu­ally want to tran­si­tion shop­pers from think­ing one way about a prod­uct or ser­vice (price sen­si­tive) to another way of think­ing, typ­i­cally one that ele­vates shared val­ues, big-picture per­for­mance, and total expe­ri­ence above price. The goal is to move shop­pers from an objec­tive, consumer-reports mind­set to an enthusiast’s mind­set.

And yet peo­ple don’t just snap from one state of mind into another; there has to be a tran­si­tion and a por­tal to mark that tran­si­tion. Put plainly: if you’re sell­ing pre­mium prod­ucts or expe­ri­ences, you need to under­stand the power of portals.

Fan­tasy Writ­ers Under­stand Portals

When it comes to por­tals, per­haps the best peo­ple to study are fan­tasy writ­ers, who have always intu­itively sensed the need for por­tals between worlds:

  • C.S. Lewis had his Wardrobe.
  • J.K. Rowl­ing had her Plat­form 9 3/4s,
  • L. Frank Baum had Dorothy ride her twister, and
  • The Wachowski Broth­ers gave Neo his red pill (among other portals).

Enter The Pic­ture Book Pow­er­house of Portals

0142404039But some of the most intense and eas­ily observed stack­ing of por­tals I’ve come across take place in a children’s pic­ture book: Skip­pyjon Jones, by Judy Schachner.

And what fol­lows is my break­down of Por­tal Stack­ing in Skip­pyjon Jones. And to start, let me give you a bit of set-up…

Skip­pyjon Jones is a young Siamese Cat who likes to pre­tend that he’s really some other ani­mal. The story starts with him pre­tend­ing to be a bird, much to his mother’s dis­may. So she sends him to his room for a lit­tle time out, and that’s when ol’ Skip­pyjon begins his trans­for­ma­tion into the great sword-fighting Chi­huahua, El Skip­pito Friskito.  A trans­for­ma­tion involv­ing por­tals galore.

First, Skip­pyjon starts bounc­ing on his bed, with the bounc­ing sym­bol­i­cally equiv­a­lent to flight. Then, dur­ing that flight, Skip­pyjon Jones encoun­ters his first portal:

2011-05-22_2032

Lit­er­a­ture is rife with the notion of mir­rors as por­tals. And Skippyjon’s mid­flight glimpse into his mir­ror reveals his hid­den chi­huahua nature. A nature which is ampli­fied through the don­ning of a Lone Ranger style mask by the lit­tle kitty. Skip­pyjon lit­er­ally becomes invested in the identity.

Then we flash down to Skippyjon’s mother and sis­ters watch­ing TV down­stairs, talk­ing about Skippyjon’s time out. But when the book cuts back to Skip­pyjon Jones, we’re not brought back up into the room, but forced to look into his room through — you guessed it — a portal:

2011-05-22_2039

We’re out­side see­ing Skip­pyjon objec­tively as a masked kitty rac­ing around his room like a freak. And the half-conscious expec­ta­tion is that when we move inside, we’ll tran­si­tion from out­side to inside in more ways than one, mov­ing from an objec­tive to a sub­jec­tive under­stand­ing, so that we will start to see what Skippyjon/El Skip­pito Friskito sees.

Still, the reader is fur­ther prompted to engage in Skippyjon’s whimsy by yet another por­tal tran­si­tion, this time from the room to the closet:

2011-05-22_2043

So we have a double-portal tran­si­tion, from out­side the room to inside, and from inside the well-lit room to inside the dark closet, wherein the mag­i­cal realm of imag­i­na­tion rules, and where Skip­pyjon Jones, the Siamese cat, fully becomes El Skip­pito Friskito, the great sword-fighting Chihuahua.

But still, if Skip­pyjon is to fight some­thing truly mon­strous, he might have to cross yet another por­tal within the imag­i­nary story, before he is to face the mon­ster.  And so it is, as Skip­pito and his band of Chi­huahua friends take a nap, using sleep as the ulti­mate por­tal to dreams…

2011-05-22_2051

And that’s when the adven­tures really begin. Until, at the con­clu­sion of Skippyjon’s imag­i­na­tive adven­ture, El Skip­pito is blown back through the portal/closet door, and back to the every­day real­ity of his mother and sis­ters. Por­tal cross­ing in; por­tal cross­ing out.

So why is this impor­tant for the book?

It makes the dif­fer­ence between watch­ing a kit­ten dream some­thing silly, and being emo­tion­ally pulled along with him into his dreams. All those por­tals really help read­ers (of all ages) “get into” the story. Yes the story itself is delight­ful, and yes, the author (Judy Schachner) does a won­der­ful job mak­ing the book a blast to read. But I can’t help but think the bril­liant use of por­tals has more than a lit­tle do with the books crit­i­cal praise and wide­spread pop­u­lar­ity.

And in case you think I’m read­ing too much into this, take a look at the Offi­cial Skip­pyjon Jones Website’s entrance page:

2011-05-22_1231Any­one want to guess what hap­pens when you click to enter?  Go ahead and try it!

So, that’s cool and all, but how can you use it for your busi­ness?  We’ll get into that next week…

But for now, let me just give Judy Schachner’s book a hardy plug for all those with young kids out there.  It won the E.B. White Read Aloud Award because it’s both a blast for the par­ents to read and a delight for kids to lis­ten to. Highly recommended.

And who knows, you might learn some­thing too…

P.S. My men­tor and busi­ness part­ner, Roy H. Williams, teaches an entire course on por­tals. If you’re inter­ested in this kind of stuff, you prob­a­bly ought to check out Wiz­ard Acad­emy at some point. And, yes, as adjunct fac­ulty, my opin­ion on Wiz­ard Acad­emy is heav­ily biased ; )

23

Mar

by Jeff

2011-03-22_2327So quiet you could hear a…

It’s so loud in here I can’t even hear…

Do those sen­tence even make sense? If it’s really, really quiet, shouldn’t there be an absence of noise? Why would you point out how quiet it is by rais­ing the spec­tre of sound in the mind of the reader? And why would you indi­cate loud­ness by talk­ing about what you can’t hear?

Sur­pris­ingly, this isn’t just my lame attempt at a Steven Wright style joke; there are legit­i­mate answers to these ques­tions, and the answers reveal some­thing shock­ingly impor­tant for copywriters.

The answer? You can’t con­vey extreme absence or total immer­sion very well through a direct approach. You have to hint at it through impli­ca­tion or com­par­i­son. Or you have to con­vey the sub­jec­tive expe­ri­ence of it. Or use both techniques.

Hear­ing a pin drop implies that there are no sounds louder than that present. In other words, your mind, once seeded with that sin­gle, del­i­cate sound, surrounds the rest with a silence more blan­ket­ing and com­plete than any you could have described directly.

And no, this isn’t just because “hear a pin drop” is a col­lo­qual­ism or cliche, this tech­nique works even when deal­ing with the actual expe­ri­ence of sound, as described by the great movie sound effects edi­tor Wal­ter Murch:

Murch flips on his com­puter, clicks the mouse a few times and instantly pulls up a scene from Jar­head. Swofford’s char­ac­ter, played by Jake Gyl­len­haal, is in com­bat for the first time and there’s an artillery bar­rage. Every­one else ducks for cover, but he stands up. And the cam­era moves closer to him. Then, in the dis­tance, there’s a muf­fled explo­sion fol­lowed by dead silence.

This fleet­ing silence is a golden moment for an edi­tor — a chance to put the audi­ence right there on the bat­tle­field. Jarhead’s direc­tor, Sam Mendes, orig­i­nally wanted that silence to stretch for sev­eral sec­onds. But Murch came up with a bet­ter idea.

Pieces of dust and sand from the explo­sion hit the actor’s face in slow motion. Then you hear the sound of the par­ti­cles hit­ting his face. “My com­bat action has com­menced,” the char­ac­ter says.

This fleet­ing silence is a golden moment for an edi­tor — a chance to put the audi­ence right there on the bat­tle­field. Jarhead’s direc­tor, Sam Mendes, orig­i­nally wanted that silence to stretch for sev­eral sec­onds. But Murch came up with a bet­ter idea.
Pieces of dust and sand from the explo­sion hit the actor’s face in slow motion. Then you hear the sound of the par­ti­cles hit­ting his face. “My com­bat action has com­menced,” the char­ac­ter saOne of the rules of the road is that if you want to cre­ate the sense of silence, it fre­quently has more pun­gency if you include the tini­est of sounds.”

Did you catch that?  The silence is length­ened and inten­si­fied by giv­ing you both a small noise and an inner sub­jec­tive expe­ri­ence of it. Murch even describes this as a rule of the road:

One of the rules of the road is that if you want to cre­ate the sense of silence, it fre­quently has more pun­gency if you include the tini­est of sounds

Sim­i­larly, describ­ing the cacoph­ony directly doesn’t get to the expe­ri­ence of it as well as describ­ing the sub­jec­tive men­tal dis­or­der­ing and dis­ori­en­ta­tion that such ear-piercing noise causes; the inter­nal men­tal con­fu­sion of ‘I can’t hear myself think’ implies an exter­nal sonic chaos that your read­ers’ minds will recre­ate, thereby putting them “right there on the battlefield.”

So what are the adver­tis­ing appli­ca­tions of all this?

In my last post I plugged the tech­nique of dis­cov­er­ing and using qual­ity cues in your adver­tis­ing. And that raises the obvi­ous ques­tion: how can you find those cues?

One answer: find the pin drops.

What unique turn of phrase implies more than it says. How can you describe an inter­nal state that implies an exter­nal event and vice versa?

Do you think that Mike Diamond’s plumbers really smell good? Or do you think that smelling good implies clean­li­ness, pro­fes­sion­al­ism, and stand-up qual­i­ties?  Smell is just one sense, per­haps the most prim­i­tively emo­tional, but we’re all the more able to fill in all the rest our­selves based on that, aren’t we?

What about fin­ger lick­ing good? It’s a cliche now, but imag­ine when it first came out!

OK, now you try — what are your pin drops? What small detail seeds our mind to rain down the greater whole?

P.S. If this seems hard, it should. It’s the kind of thing ad pro­fes­sion­als get paid the big bucks to come up with.

2011-02-21_1143Inter­ac­tive ads often strike me as a next-generation “funny ad” — with the “inter­ac­tiv­ity” feel­ing just as gra­tu­itous as the humor in most funny ads.

And as any copy­writer worth his pay can tell you, gra­tu­itous humor hurts ad performance.

So as clever as many inter­ac­tive ads are, the ad pro­fes­sional in me usu­ally walks away from them with that same impres­sion: did this really help con­vey the mes­sage, or did it just show­case the “tal­ents” of the ad agency?

But that wasn’t the case with Spent from the Urban Min­istries of Durham (cre­ated by McKinney).

Spent lacks all of the “hey look at me, I’m dig­i­tal and cool” vari­ety of inter­ac­tiv­ity, as it’s a text-based game.  But Spent’s text-based inter­ac­tiv­ity forces the player to make the same soul-crushing and dilemma-filled choices pushed onto America’s work­ing poor.

As Ad Freak writes, “It’s a jar­ring expe­ri­ence, and sev­eral of the choices will stick with you long after you’ve played.”  Now that’s inter­ac­tiv­ity that works!

Inter­ac­tive Insight From the Heath Bros

And Spent reminded me of this exam­ple of per­sua­sive inter­ac­tiv­ity high­lighted in Chap­ter 5 of Chip and Dan Heath’s Switch:

  • Chil­dren com­plet­ing chemother­apy are sent home to com­plete their treat­ment by tak­ing a reg­i­men of antibi­otics and low-dosage chemother­apy pills.
  • But com­pli­ance is crit­i­cal to suc­cess.  Miss­ing 20% of your meds means a 200% higher chance of get­ting can­cer again.
  • To increase com­pli­ance HopeLab devel­oped a video game that let kids play the part of a sil­ver nano-bot that kills can­cer cells with chemo rays.
  • The game has 20 lev­els and is sup­posed to teach kids about their Chemo reg­i­men and recov­ery through between-game lessons
  • The game is a smash­ing suc­cess, boost­ing com­pli­ance by 20% and dou­bling kids chances for cancer-free success.
  • BUT, most of the kids only com­pleted 2 lev­els of game play, mean­ing they got lit­tle info and mostly game-play

The find­ings seemed counter-intuitive, until HopeLab’s research direc­tor asked a mar­ket­ing pro­fes­sor at Stan­ford to explain:

Think about this from a Mar­ket­ing per­spec­tive. We can change behav­ior in a short tele­vi­sion ad. We don’t do it with infor­ma­tion. We do it with iden­tity, ‘If I buy a BMW, I’m going to be this kind of per­son. If I take that kind of vaca­tion, I’m this kind of eco-friendly person.’”

In other words, the game got the kids to iden­tify with the chemo as their weapon for get­ting their life and health back, rather than as a reminder of their sick­ness. It dra­mat­i­cally changed how they felt about tak­ing chemo through direct involve­ment – an involve­ment made pos­si­ble through interactivity.

Got it? Inter­ac­tiv­ity should fos­ter imag­i­nary and emo­tional con­nec­tion to the per­sua­sive mes­sage. If it’s not doing that, it’s prob­a­bly a waste of resources.

How This Applies to Reg­u­lar Advertising

What you’re prob­a­bly think­ing is: That’s great, Jeff, if you’ve got the ad bud­get to cre­ate inter­ac­tive ads in the first place.

My first response: the costs of inter­ac­tive adver­tis­ing have dropped tremen­dously over the last few years. Plus the more you rely on message-based involve­ment and the less you require wizz-bang graph­ics, the cheaper it’s likely to be.  In other words, don’t dis­miss it; research it, and even if it is still too expen­sive, be will­ing to check back in a year’s time.

My sec­ond response: If text alone can be inter­ac­tive, no other medium has an excuse not to be.

Does that sec­ond response sur­prise you?

Here’s an exam­ple of inter­ac­tive text (not hyper­links) from Roy Williams’ Mon­day Morn­ing Memo, Reveal­ing the Vivid Unex­pected:

The thing about grow­ing up is that you get fewer scabs on your knees, but more inter­nal injuries. Do you remem­ber the day when that lit­tle yel­lowham­mer flew straight at the win­dow? You picked it up. It had a drop of blood on its beak. Iden­ti­cal color to ours. Just one drop, like a bright bead. And then there were all those brightly plumed kids who left school, fly­ing cheer­fully and didn’t get far. Ran smack into World War II. Lit­tle Tommy Nay­lor lying in Africa some­where, blood on his beak. Iden­ti­cal color to ours.”
– mono­logue of Peter Sal­lis as Nor­man Clegg, Last of the Sum­mer Wine; Get­ting Sam Home, (1983) writ­ten by Roy Clarke

We’re not told the yel­lowham­mer col­lided with the win­dow. Nei­ther do we read the words “dead” or “death.” Yet we know the lit­tle bird hit the win­dow and died because of the line, “You picked it up.“

We come to this con­clu­sion on our own. This tech­nique of “rev­e­la­tion by infer­ence” pulls us into the nar­ra­tive by mak­ing us fill in its blanks…

…Read the pas­sage again and wit­ness the bril­liant restraint. Roy Clarke flashes just a few slides onto the movie screen of our mind and we fill the gaps between them. We con­clude:

(1.) A yel­lowham­mer is a bird.
(2.) It hit the win­dow and died.
(3.) Tommy Nay­lor was a school­mate.
(4.) Tommy grew up and went to war.
(5.) Tommy died in Africa in WWII

But none of this is told to us directly. Yet we know it just as surely as if it had been.

Tony Schwartz and Evok­ing a Response with Old-School Media

As you can see, forc­ing your audi­ence to “fill in the gaps” is a form of inter­ac­tiv­ity that’s avail­able to all media, whether it’s billboard, radio, or TV.   As Media Guru Tony Schwartz writes:

For an adver­tiser, the issue of con­cern should cen­ter on how the stim­uli in a com­mer­cial inter­act with a viewer’s real-life expe­ri­ences and thus affect his behav­ior in a pur­chas­ing sit­u­a­tion.” [Empha­sis added]

Now, Tony is most famous for his Daisy com­mer­i­cal, an inter­ac­tive piece of adver­tis­ing if ever there was one. Take a look:

YouTube Preview Image

Goldwater’s cam­paign com­plained bit­terly about the ad, claim­ing it was an attack ad and that it mis­rep­re­sented Goldwater’s remarks and poli­cies with regard to nuclear weapons, but oddly enough, the ad never men­tions Gold­wa­ter or his poli­cies. That was filled in by the lis­ten­ers as they inter­acted with the images and sounds.  They filled in the gaps.

And for those ask­ing the ques­tion, yes, the tech­nique works just as well for prod­uct com­mer­cials rather than polit­i­cal ads. Here’s a com­mer­cial where Tony Schwartz used his tech­niques to pitch Coca-Cola with­out ever men­tion­ing the product’s name:

Schwartz Coke Commercial

So the real ques­tion isn’t are you using dig­i­tal adver­tis­ing, but are you cre­at­ing inter­ac­tive adver­tis­ing, regard­less of your media?

If not, maybe you need a bet­ter ad writer.  Or maybe you need a bet­ter trained copy­writer.

P.S. As the Web holds all media, the impor­tance of mean­ing­ful, non-redundant inter­ac­tion between graph­ics and copy and video and cross-channel com­mu­ni­ca­tion is becom­ing more and more impor­tant.  Start think­ing about it, if you haven’t already.

cb-podcast-coverOver at Copy­blog­ger, Brian Clark just posted a meaty and insight-saturated inter­view titled, Atten­tion: Is Your Head­line Get­ting Any?

And at the tail end of that inter­view, Brian announces a Head­line Writ­ing Mas­ter­class that I’ll be co-conducting along with Brian via Webinar.

So I wanted to announce this Webi­nar to all of my read­ers here at the blog, and to give you a brief expla­na­tion on how to sign-up and what kind of con­tent you can expect:

Trouble_girl3First, you may want to look at my old post: How Trou­ble Taught Me 4 Ways to Write Bet­ter Head­lines.

What that post should tell you is that my approach to teach­ing head­line writ­ing is in direct oppo­si­tion to most oth­ers. I don’t give you head­line tem­plates or for­mu­las to Mad Lib with your own prod­ucts and brand names; I seek to help you under­stand the dynam­ics and prin­ci­ples behind effec­tive headlines.

When you can cre­ate great head­lines from first prin­ci­ples, you never run out of awe­some head­lines, regard­less of how vora­cious or demand­ing your con­tent mar­ket­ing needs.  When you rely on tem­plates, you end up look­ing schlockey as you stretch and deform the head­line to inap­pro­pri­ate con­texts and  and you quickly run out of templates.

So why not learn how to make them yourself?

Well, most writ­ers don’t learn it because darn few peo­ple teach how to do it.  Sean D’Souza has some decent stuff on head­lines, and Brian Clark reveals some good stuff in this inter­view and in his blog posts.  But other than Sean and Brian, most peo­ple revert back to the Swipe File/Mad Libs technique.

So, yes, this is yet another info-product highly rec­om­mended by it’s cre­ator — except all you have to do to get this one is sign-up for the Inter­net Mar­ket­ing for Smart Peo­ple newslet­ter (which is a good deal in itself; I’ve been a sub­scriber since it first came out).

What will this Webi­nar cover, in more spe­cific terms?

So, in Brian’s Copy­blog­ger inter­view, he men­tions his the 4U Method of Writ­ing Head­lines*, which means that every head­line should be:

  1. Use­ful (with a broad def­i­n­i­tion of “useful”)
  2. Urgent
  3. Unique
  4. Ultra-specific

So in those terms, this Mas­ter Class will teach you:

  1. 10 spe­cific ways to sig­nal Use­ful­ness to your Audience
  2. 7 Fas­ci­na­tion Trig­gers to cre­ate added Urgency and Unique­ness to your headlines
  3. How to layer tech­nique onto tech­nique to mul­ti­ply the mag­netic effect of each
  4. Over 33 Head­lines Decon­structed in Depth
  5. Under­stand the dif­fer­ence between power adjec­tives vs. amateur-hour adjectives

I’d offer you all a money-back guar­an­tee, but, um, we’re not charg­ing any money for it, so… just go sign up for it already!

Oh, and in the words of Bar­tles & Jaymes, “and thank you for your sup­port” :)

* Accord­ing to a com­menter, the 4U Method comes from the great Bob Bly Michael Mas­ter­son.

18

Jan

by Jeff

on-a-mission-from-godEven a vicious crim­i­nal wants his gun man­u­fac­tured by a vir­tu­ous man.

He most cer­tainly doesn’t want the gun to have been made with cut cor­ners, with an unscrupu­lous eye towards max­i­miz­ing profit mar­gins, and a socio­pathic incon­sid­er­a­tion for the end-user.

And so it is with every­one: no mat­ter how much we may fail to attain virtue our­selves – no mat­ter how much we behave as fool­ish chil­dren — we still want the things we buy and the peo­ple who pro­vide our ser­vices to be virtuous.

For adver­tis­ing and copy­writ­ing, this means that demon­strat­ing or dra­ma­tiz­ing virtue on the part of the prod­uct, man­u­fac­turer, or ser­vice provider is often enough to move the nee­dle.

This is espe­cially true in cases where prov­ing supe­ri­or­ity in per­for­mance is dif­fi­cult or legally pro­hib­ited or impos­si­ble. In prac­ti­cal terms, demon­strat­ing virtue means using your copy to indi­rectly show how the actions of  your client are dri­ven by some­thing deeper than eco­nom­ics.

Here’s an exam­ple demon­strat­ing this tech­nique of implied virtue:

Beckley-Imports-1024x667

In a pre­vi­ous post, I focused on the story’s abil­ity to flat­ter prospec­tive cus­tomers, but I ignored how the story implies that Mr. Beck­ley works on Mer­cedes because he has an affin­ity with the val­ues that the car stands for – that he cares about how all that added engi­neer­ing and build qual­ity ulti­mately pro­tect the driver.

In other words, Beckley’s  deci­sion to focus on Mer­cedes and Volvos is a prin­ci­pled, vir­tu­ous choice, mak­ing him, by trans­fer­ence, a prin­ci­pled, vir­tu­ous mechanic (as opposed to a mechanic choos­ing to con­cen­trate on a more lucra­tive or less com­pet­i­tive for­eign auto market).

So Mr. Beck­ley not only becomes a mechanic you can trust, but one with whom you share a com­mon brand affin­ity for Mer­cedes auto­mo­biles. Brilliant.

Tak­ing WIIFY to the Next Level

Currencies_That_Buy-_CredibilityI touched on this emo­tional dynamic a bit ear­lier with my post on What’s In It For You (and on One Tough Mother’s Mag­i­cal Adver­tis­ing Secret),  But now I’d like to tie that idea to the work of my col­league Tom Wanek.

Tom’s frame­work of sig­nal­ing the­ory, as described in his book Cur­ren­cies that Buy Cred­i­bil­ity, really func­tions as the miss­ing link between cred­i­bil­ity and WIIFY. Here’s how:

1. To show virtue, you have to show an unrea­son­able devo­tion to excel­lence or end-user sat­is­fac­tion. You have to demon­strate extra-painstaking mea­sures that go beyond the merely eco­nomic. And ide­ally, you want to do this with some­thing other than an explicit claim.

2. Signal­ing The­ory says that non-adaptive/non-economical expen­di­ture of resources can be used to “prove” or sig­nal mat­ing fit­ness. The male peacock’s weighty tail feath­ers show off his vigor; they demon­strate his abil­ity to sur­vive despite the hand­i­cap, kind of like beat­ing some­one up “with one arm behind your back.”

3. In busi­ness, an appar­ently non-selfish invest­ment of money, resources, time, etc. can sig­nal the sin­cer­ity or virtue of your busi­ness offer. This is the crux of Wanek’s bril­liant appli­ca­tion of Sig­nal­ing The­ory to mar­ket­ing. A money-back guar­an­tee (sup­pos­edly) shows that you’re will­ing to take on all of the buy­ing risk, osten­si­bly due to con­fi­dence in your prod­uct. Richard Davis’s will­ing­ness to shoot him­self while wear­ing Sec­ond Chance Body Armor rather dra­mat­i­cally demon­strates how risk­ing Safety and Well­be­ing sig­nals belief and trusts in a product:

YouTube Preview Image

4. Ads can demon­strate virtue by lever­ag­ing one of Wanek’s 6 Cur­ren­cies that Buy Cred­i­bil­ity, namely:

  • Mate­r­ial Wealth
  • Time and Energy
  • Oppor­tu­nity
  • Power and Control
  • Rep­u­ta­tion and Prestige
  • Safety and Wellbeing

In the Beck­ley Auto­mo­tive exam­ple, Mr. Beck­ley is sac­ri­fic­ing oppor­tu­nity (the oppor­tu­nity to work on any mark and make of vehi­cle) in order to sig­nal his shared affin­ity for Mercedes.

My point is sim­ply that lay­er­ing virtue with Sig­nal­ing cre­ates a stronger over­all effect than either strat­egy alone. And that this kind of implied demon­stra­tion of virtue is what most peo­ple are really after in most of the prod­ucts and ser­vices they buy — that it rep­re­sents what Ogilvy referred to as “a first class ticket” and “the pos­i­tively good.

So what are you doing with your adver­tis­ing? Are you using either or both of these tech­niques to max­i­mum effect?

P.S. As pre­vi­ously noted, the Beck­ley Auto­mo­tive exam­ple was used with the kind per­mis­sion of the bril­liant Chuck McKay, a mar­ket­ing and busi­ness strate­gist with much to offer any busi­ness seri­ous about pur­su­ing increased mar­ket share and profitability.

P.P.S.  Tom will be teach­ing at Wiz­ard Acad­emy on the 26th of this month for those inter­ested in an in-depth study of mar­ket­ing through sig­nal­ing theory