Whenever I visit the State Fair or any kind of exposition such as the Flower and Patio Show, I always gravitate to the booths where the people we once knew as hucksters are giving demonstrations. I genuinely enjoy their sales pitches, and they provide some excellent reminders for my professional life.
What does someone selling a set of pots and pans, eyeglass cleaner, or a high-horsepower blender have to offer to a copywriter? Plenty.
One of the first lessons in learned in marketing is one of the easier to understand. It’s one of the most durable, timeless pieces of advice. It’s been promoted experts of all stripes. And yet, it’s one of the most consistently ignored.
When people read your ad, your press release, your email, or your website, what exactly do you want them to do?
Some of you may be hearing Roger Daltrey intone that headline, but my goal isn’t to tap into your brain’s storehouse of long-forgotten lyrics. Instead, I’d like to explore an issue that has long puzzled me: why do companies think that rolling out a new website will excite their audiences and incite them to visit en masse?
I ask that because I’ve so often been asked to develop ads and other materials that essentially proclaim, “We have a new website!” So? What’s the big deal?
If you use an electronic sign, always check the number of characters it can display at any one time. One local business called “Glass Pros” uses its sign to make promotional messages, some of which end with the company’s name. Unfortunately, it appears that the screen can only display eight letters and/or spaces at a time, so when a message stops scrolling, only the last eight letters and/or spaces remain visible. Take a look at their name, do a little counting, and you’ll see how their sign presents them.
How do you convince consumers that hot dogs are healthy food? Coney Island hot dog entrepreneur Nathan Handwerker did it with stethoscopes, says writer Bob Bly in his book “All American Frank: A History of the Hot Dog” (http://www.bly.com/AllAmericanFrank).
Handwerker’s price of a nickel per dog couldn’t overcome public worries about the quality of the meat. There was a perception that processors used tainted beef.
When I started my business, I’d spend a lot of time reading through online forums and other small business advice sites. I found some good advice (along with a lot of really crappy stuff from self-styled experts).
One issue that came up again and again was whether the owners of these new businesses should refer to themselves as “I” or “we” when writing about the business in brochures and other materials. (Websites were still new enough that people weren’t agonizing over them.)
Indiana is currently embroiled in a battle over what its proponents are calling “education reform” and what opponents see as an attempt to dismember the public school system (personally, I’m in the latter camp, but that’s not the point I’m here to make).
Newspaper articles and TV coverage of the battle have been extensive, and the websites of these media outlets give voice to readers and viewers through their “comment” sections. Judging from many of those comments … particularly those from the pro-“reform” side … Indiana should spend a lot more money on education, not less. I base that on the plethora of spelling errors, grammar gaffes that go beyond picky mistakes, and leaps of logic that aren’t even in the neighborhood of what we call reasoning.
Another simple way to gauge your copy’s potential effectiveness is to highlight it in two different colors. Whether you’re developing a letter, a brochure, a web page, or any other channel, take a few moments to highlight all of the sentences that are really about your customer and his or her needs. Let’s do that in pink. Next, highlight all the sentences that are about your company and what it does in yellow.
Now look at the page. What color is your page?
There’s a company from which I’ve been buying products off and on for the better part of three decades. I bought when they were primarily a catalog marketer, and kept buying after they made the move online. I don’t buy a lot from them — maybe something once every three or four years — but enough so they continue to stay in contact.
But I’m about to break off that contact and press the evil unsubscribe button. Why? Because whoever is in charge of their online marketing strategy seems to believe that the best way to maintain my loyalty is to stuff my emailbox with email after email — and the frequency keeps increasing.
“… He then undressed her from the waste down and cut open her shirt and bra …” That salacious gem came from a story on the Indianapolis Star’s website. I had images of Lady Gaga wearing an outfit made of trash, or perhaps someone who was stuck headfirst into a landfill. Once again, a story was spellchecked, but not edited. Or maybe the writer really wasn’t referring to a woman’s waist.
A similar, but less exciting example appeared in the February issue of Trains Magazine. In an item about a railroad executive, a writer mentioned that the man “was previously general council.” No, that would be “counsel,” a noun most often referring to attorneys when preceded by “general.” A “council” is a group of people gathered for a particular task, such as a “town council” or a “merchants’ council.”