Cat's Eye Marketing Blog

The Cat from Cat's Eye: In Memory of the Nuz

No blog post has been harder to write than this one. But I have my kleenex close by. So here goes.

 A pet is hard to lose.

 A pet that showed up at a special time in your life is very hard to lose.

 We called him the Great White Cat. His name was Nuz.

He would have been mortified if he knew that it was short for Nuzzle. We named him that because he would stand on his hind legs like a pony and give us strong head butts until we thought he was going to knock us over.

 Extreme nuzzles.

 

How Nuz found us

Some of you have heard the story. Bear with me because I need to tell it one last time.

It was April 1993 in Ocean Shores, Washington. Bob and I were giddy with excitement. We had spent hours and hours thinking of a name for the graphic design business we had just created.

We had scribbled dozens of ideas on post-it-notes and pressed them on the white board. The notes stuck, but none of the names did.

Until Bob turned to me and said, "Cat's Eye."

The cat's eye conjured up the ability to focus, attention to detail, curiosity about new things—everything that would make a design company sharp.

It was decided. Cat's Eye it would be.

Just hours later, in the midst of a wild spring storm, through the sound of the wind and pelting rain, I heard a faint cry. I opened the patio door and there was a tiny, frail, soaking wet, white kitten, shaking violently.

I brought him inside, dried him off and turned him around. It was then that I saw the cat's eyes. One was green and the other blue. It was a sign. 

He was all kinds of sick. Fleas. Worms. And an upper respiratory infection that left him on IVs for two days.

But he was spunky and he survived.

Quirky Nuz

He was quirky, this cat. It was as if he had searched for us because he knew he would fit right in.

He was several animals in one and could take on the personality of each. Kind of like a writer does.

Early on, when he jumped up on our bed, we learned that if we threw a small object, say a wrapped cough drop, he would fly through the air, catch it in his mouth, trot back up to us and drop it. Then came the stare that meant, "Throw it again. Please throw it again."

He learned the command, "In position!" and when one of us would say it, he would walk to the end of the bed and sit up, waiting for us to throw it again.  

He could fetch. He was a dog.

Sometimes he would jump up on the bed in the middle of the night and we would hear a plop. It was Pépe, his furry purple hand puppet. He had carried him in with his mouth, fully expecting us to play.

Other times he would scale our stone fireplace that went from floor to ceiling—without the harness a climber uses. He was a mountain goat.

He climbed to the top of our Christmas tree one year and knocked it over. Okay he was just being himself that time. Bad cat.

For a few months, our daughter's cat Alex stayed with us. Not exactly the perfect role model, he showed Nuz how to pull food from the cupboards and refrigerator. 

One day after Alex was gone, we came home to a mess. Nuz had climbed up onto the kitchen counter, opened the cupboard and dragged an opened bag of potato chips onto the floor. Bad cat.

He loved cantaloupe and corn and Pudding Pops. Yes, he was a little weird.

He had great taste in music. We moved three times with him and the only thing that would calm him down in the car were the sounds of James Taylor, BB King or Pavarotti.

 

Business partner Nuz

He was the Cat's Eye mascot from day one and took on the role with class.

He was in our print ads. In one, he was sprawled out on the carpet on his side. The ad's headline said, "Relax. Cat's Eye will take care of it."

He was fascinated by the fax machine and waited by it, as if he was our assistant, watching the paper until it finally came through on the other side. Never could quite teach him to bring us the fax, though. Sometimes he got tired of watching and would fall asleep.

The press loved him. In 2000, when Cat's Eye won the Best in the Northwest Family Business of the Year award, his photo was on the big screen as the master of ceremonies told the story of our name, and of Nuz. A day later, he was in The Puget Sound Business Journal.

He was unimpressed.

 

The day that was different

Monday, November 2, was a typical day. Except, come to think of it, for a week or so, Nuz had been spending more time on our bed at night. More than he usually did.

That night, he left for his own soft bed in the living room at 10.

At 2:30 Tuesday morning, a strange crinkling noise woke me up. I turned on the light and there was Nuz, pawing at the cover of the New Yorker magazine I had left on the floor.

He didn't look right. I pulled him onto the bed. He couldn't stand up. His eyes were dark.

I wrapped him in the soft UW Huskies blanket he loved and called the vet hospital. Our problem:  the first ferry from the island to the mainland didn't leave until 6:30.

When I described the symptoms, the women on the other end of the phone, said,

"Wrap him in a blanket. Turn the lights down low and hold him."

I did. He died in my arms at 4:45am, Tuesday, November 3.

He wasn't destined to catch the 6:30 ferry.

I like to think that he managed to somehow make it to our bedroom that night because he wanted to tell us that he was leaving us. And because he did that, I got to spend his last two hours with him.

He was a good cat.

Rest in peace, sweet Nuz.

 1993 - 2009. 

Who Are You, Anyway?: Showing Up Online

It's been a strange week. I'm in day 10 of the crappy upper respiratory stuff.

Type. Cough. Sniffle. Repeat.

I'm keeping my water glass to myself and trying not to breathe on Bob. In fact, it would be better if I just didn't breathe at all, his eyes are saying.

And why is everyone talking about website bios all of a sudden?

This week had a weird synchronicity to it. People have been talking about website bios and social media profiles. In phone calls. On Twitter. On forums. In emails.

Everywhere. 

For a minute, I thought they'd all gone crazy. Then I put it together.

It's what I've been working on all week for clients. Fun, memorable bios. About Us pages. Social media profiles.

Bios are on my brain. So of course I'm paying attention more.

You know, like when you buy a new car and all of a sudden you see all the other ones on the road just like it? They were always there, but you just noticed them.

Showing up online: part II

This past week, I had lots of smart questions from people struggling to create their bios, to boil down the essence of who they are in a short paragraph or two—in a way that is consistent and that attracts the people they want to work with.

Here are some starter tips:

1. Align your profile and website bio with your brand.

Your website gives people a good idea of who you are (or it should). But if the bio on your website, the one on your blog and the one on Facebook sound like you are talking about three different people, I'd say you have a problem. Unless you have multiple personality disorder. Then, of course, it would make perfect sense.

Connect your profile with your brand. If you are playful, and your website copy reflects that, so should your profile. Got a quirky sense of humor? Go with it. Someone tweeted a line from my website bio on Twitter yesterday: She said, "@CatsEyeWriter's website bio says she can juggle, has been to Timbuktu and can say, 'Four knives will be sufficient' in Swahili. I LOVE THIS!"

Everything I said was true. And, yes, a little quirky. Just like me.

Just be sure you show yourself in a real and consistent way—across all platforms.

2. Tell what you do best—and for whom.

When I am browsing through Twitter profiles and bios or visiting someone's About Us page on their website, I am attracted to the ones that deliver their messages with style and originality.

One of my Twitter friends, Havi Brooks, says it this way on her website's About Havi page: 

My duck and I (okay, the duck is a little weird and that could be a blog post all by itself) help bright, creative kooky people (who she does it for) destuckify their stuff so they can do their thing (what she does best).

She goes on to say:

So they can work through all the overwhelming, sometimes-terrifying goo that gets in the way of doing what they love and biggifying it like crazy.

When I read this, I know right away. Either I am her target market or I am not.

3. Leave the cardboard person at the doorstep.

I saw a small business networking site recently that warned its members to only enter "basic business information" into their profile. They said, "It's not about you personally. It's a business profile.

I couldn't disagree more, particularly if you are a small biz owner. People who are deciding whether to interact with you are looking for someone real.

Asking yourself a few of these questions will help you uncover—and show—the real, multi-dimensional you:

1. What three things do you believe most about people?

2. What is the one thing you've done in your life that you are most proud of?

3. What's the one thing you haven't done yet that you want to do before you die?

4. What three adjectives best describe you?

5. Which movie or TV character are you most like and why?

6. What's your favorite food or beverage?

7. Name the two things that bug you the most when they happen.

Use phrases from these answers to make a list. From that list, mix and match until you come up with the whole person that best describes you.

On Twitter, it's a challenge to do that in just 160 characters, but that's part of the fun. And it's the very process that gets you to the core of who you are.

My Twitter profile says:

Slightly neurotic copywriter. Loves strong verbs, creating unique online identities, oaky Merlot & John Cleese. Thinks the word cree-A-tive is overused.

4. Act online in ways that match your profile.

People are getting to know and, hopefully, trust you, so your online behavior and the copy in your bio should not clash. Who you are should not change. Whether you write an article for a social networking site like Biznik, create a new blog post or make a comment on Twitter, stay true to yourself.

5. Play with the content as you change and grow.

You aren't going to be the same person you are today. None of us are. Hey, next year you might climb Mt. Everest. Or write a book. Or become a goalie on a women's indoor soccer team (which one of my clients did) You might join the hole-in-one club. Or master conversational French.

Profiles are easy to edit. Be sure to do that regularly so when things change, your customers, prospects and colleagues can keep up with all the cool things you are doing.

What does your profile say about you?

You'll laugh. You'll cry. You'll buy stuff.: 5 Strategies for 'emotion-based marketing'

There's a big fat war raging. We've always been told that people buy based on emotions, but need to justify their purchase with logic.

They satisfy the heart before the head kicks in to tell them they've made the right choice because…blah, blah blah (insert boring reasons here).

But, the thing is, two nights ago I was in a fun audience (how many educational events do you go to where you get to sit in the auditorium and sip on wine as the presenter goes through his PowerPoint show?).

Anyway, this semi-famous marketing expert from the cold white north (Canada) was talking about social media as a marketing tool for businesses when he turned around and said:

"Of course you would never use emotions in B2B (business-to-business) marketing."

Kind of caught me off guard.

 B2B, B2C, Aren't They All Just People?

We forget that business-to-business and business-to-consumer have something quite obvious in common.

Consumers are people who buy stuff.

Businesses are run by people who buy stuff.

So why treat B2B marketing any differently?

My 5 strategies for emotion-based marketing

Inside that business owner in the stuffy shirt is a real person. She laughs. She cries. She likes songs and movies because they make her feel. She has a heart and a head. And when her emotions are touched, she tends to remember the message more.

Here are some ways to reach her:

 1.    Tell her stories. 

You can do a lot with the right story, one that appeals to the senses, one that shows your personality and voice, and paints a picture.

 2.    Use analogies. 

People love an analogy because they "get it" right away. And because they are visual, analogies touch a deep, emotional part of the brain. We explained why we dumped our brand new business by comparing the needy "baby" to our jealous 16-year-old, Cat's Eye Marketing. Use this powerful tool when you can. 

3.    Make him laugh. 

John Cleese, one of my heroes, said it perfectly: "If I can get you to laugh with me, you like me better, which makes you more open to my ideas." I'm not talking cruel or sarcastic humor here, or just telling jokes. I mean the kind of humor that makes us all see that we are a lot alike. The kind that brings us together.

4.    Scare her (in a nice way). 

Don't underestimate the fear factor. We all have fears of losing something or someone. Of not doing something right. Of losing our best clients. Of our business failing because we made the wrong decision, went with the wrong vendor, spent too much money on a solution that didn't work. Find a way to identify that fear, then walk your client to the solution which, of course, is your product or service.

5.    Satisfy other emotional 'cravings.' 

There are tons of these. It takes a little time and skill to hit on the one your customer may be feeling, but it's worth it. Put yourself in their shoes, find the right emotional craving, then satisfy it. 

What about you? Do you think emotions should be used in B2B marketing? Do you ever market to people's emotions? 

One Girl, One Hero: A September 11 Story

I wrote this story last September 11.

September 11, 2008.

Seven years had gone by. Seven years since the day that changed our perception of our world—and our safety in it.

Still, some of my friends had memories too painful, too fresh, to read what I had written.

They sent me emails. One friend was supposed to be on one of the planes and still had grief—and guilt that he was spared.

Another couldn't talk about it, just one line about the Pentagon and black choking smoke.

I wanted to write a story of hope, of good over evil, but some weren't ready yet.

 

A September 11 Story—Retold

It was the day after the day.

September 12, 2001 was a Wednesday. I know because Wednesday was my mentoring day.

I swung into the parking lot of the elementary school not far from Seattle.

My friend was a smart, but troubled 8-year-old. I'll call her Bella. She was in the gifted class.

Bella loved to read. I brought her my old comics, like Little Lulu. She read them out loud and laughed hysterically at the strong, spunky Lulu. We made bracelets out of plastic jewelry and waved our hands at each other to see who could make the loudest clicking sound.

We played board games. Once she tried to teach me chess but she gave up. I could never figure out what move to make and she got tired of waiting. Sometimes Bella would come into the library, sit down and frown, arms crossed, swinging her legs. On those days, she didn't want to talk to anyone, not even me.

On this particular Wednesday, Bella was quiet. She sat down, took out the set of blocks and started building, her tongue sticking out in concentration.

"What are you making?" I said.

"Towers," she said, keeping her eyes on the blocks.

My heart did a flip. She continued adding blocks until she had two blue buildings, side by side. She gently pulled out blocks on each side, about three-quarters from the top of each tower, so there were perfectly square holes on all sides.

Then she did an astounding thing. She lifted a black crayon, holding it with the thumb and forefinger. She made it climb, turn, then slowly push through the empty space, from one side of the tower right through the other side and onto the library table.

"See?" she said.

"If they just would have made the towers this way, with holes in the sides, the plane could have gone right through. And no one would have been hurt. Why didn't they make them that way?"

She frowned.

I swallowed. I didn't have any words.

Bella punched the buildings with her fist. The blocks fell across the table and onto the floor. 

As the weeks went by, in my "Wednesdays with Bella," we talked more about the terrorist attacks. She asked why the firefighters had to go in those burning buildings. She wanted to know if any kids died.

I had to tell her the truth. I felt like she needed to know.

She said she never wanted to go on an airplane again. Then she walked out of the library, down the hall to her classroom.

 

******************************************************************************

One Wednesday four and a half months later, Bella and I sat in the library.

"I'm going to New York City for a writer's conference tomorrow," I said. "What would you like me to bring you back?"

I waited, expecting, I don't know what: a t-shirt, maybe.

"I want a picture of a firefighter," she said. She stared at me with huge brown eyes.

"And what I really want is an autograph," she said. She studied my face.

"I'll do my best," I said. "Hey! How about if I bring a picture of you and maybe a short letter, and see if I can find a firefighter to give them to?"

I had no idea if I could do this.

Bella's eyes lit up. She grabbed my pen and wrote:

                                                                                         Jan. 29, 2002

Dear Firefighter,

    Thank you for working hard to clear the ground at ground zero. I think it is very brave that you are doing what you are doing. Thank you.

                                                                                      Your friend,

                                                                                      Bella

 

********************************************************************************************************************

I stood in the fierce Manhattan sun, in a line that wound down four blocks and around another two. Just as I got to the fence with its mementos and massive butcher paper wall, with thousands of messages of hope and sorrow scrawled every which way, I saw him.

He wore brown overalls, a blue shirt with an embossed fire department insignia and a navy blue baseball cap with red letters: FDNY. His name was JJ, from Engine 299, Queens.  His eyes widened as I told him about Bella. I handed the letter and photo to him.

"Wow," he said. "Tell her these are going up at the station." He waved the letter and photo. 

"She wants your autograph," I said.

"Are you kidding?" 

No, I said, it's the one thing she wants me to bring back from New York.

He took the paper from me and wrote,

Dear Bella,

Thank you for being so kind and thoughtful.

 

                                    Your Friend,

                                   J.J. Kerns

Then he reached behind the fence and pulled out an FDNY hat. "Give this to Bella," he said. "Tell her it's from me."

He held up Bella's letter and I took a photo of him.

 

******************************************************************************

The next Wednesday, Bella was sitting on a chair in the library waiting for me.

"I brought you something from my trip," I said.

I handed her J.J.'s photo and note, which I had framed. Her eyes got big.

"Cool!" she said, jumping out of her seat as if I had just brought her the biggest, softest teddy bear from FAO Schwartz.

I reached into my bag and pulled out the FDNY cap. Her face sagged. She grabbed the cap and put it on. It made her look goofy, the way it covered her ears and most of her eyes. I helped her adjust the tab in the back.

Bella stood up. "I want to go back to my class now, " she said.

 She pushed the bill of the cap down and peered out at me.

I smiled. "Sure." 

I watched her skip down the hall, pumping her arm in the air. 

One horrific day. And four and a half months and 3,000 miles later, a genuine, heartfelt connection between an eight-year-old girl and her hero.

It's the one good memory I have from September 11. 

 

******************************************************************************

We have had eight September 11's since that gut-wrenching day.

Bella is now a high school junior. She doesn't need a mentor anymore. She's bright, achieving, just starting to think about the rest of her life.

As we never forget September 11, as we think about the sacrifices that were made for us, let's also think about the kids who, if only for a season, replaced Britney Spears and the Backstreet Boys with bigger heroes, like New York's firefighters.

 

What about you? Do you have a story of hope, something good that came out of September 11?

 

 

Best of 2009 Copywriting Clichés: Tips For Killer, Rockstar Writers Who Don't Want to Suck

I love my readers. You challenge me all the time. A smart, inquisitive bunch you are.

Soon after I hit "publish" on last week's post, I heard from some of you.

"Don't just tell me how to wake up an old blog post," you said. "Show me." 

Okay. That's a fair request. I went fishing through my old posts. And I found one in particular that had touched a nerve. In fact, it's still one of the most googled posts I have ever written.

The topic? The runaway use of cheesy clichés in copywriting.

So hearing the same old tired words can make us a little crazy. Our eyes glaze over when we hear "We go the extra mile," "discover the difference," and "out-of-the-box."

But why?

Now, I will admit. Clichés became clichés in the first place because they were powerful. People just got what you were saying immediately when you used the word or phrase. You could picture it.

But if every product is "cutting edge," then what does cutting edge mean? It means nothing anymore. It's a tired, deflated party balloon, once full of energy, now just sad.

The three clichés that made my new list for 2009

Okay, it was hard,but here's the list: Best Clichés of 2009. I wish I could give them all an award (she smiles). Cause they're all winners.

Counting down, in David Letterman reverse order: 

3. 'Killer'

I'm finished reading a piece when this word rears its ugly head. In a Google search, you'll find 457,000 entries with the word "killer."

We have killer apps, killer websites, killer ads.

Aside from who wants to kill anyway (aren't there laws against that?), how did this word worm its way into our language? And what did it mean when it was bright and shiny new?

I think it started out as another word for great. Awesome. What does it mean now? Nothing. A simple search turned up hundreds of articles with "killer" in the headline:

"Increase Your Click-Throughs with Killer Title Tags"

"Get More Online Dates by Writing a Killer Profile"

And my all-time favorite, she says, tongue firmly embedded in cheek:

"Become a Killer Writer: Avoid Overused Adjectives" (Huh?)

2. 'Sucks'

This one took a close second.

"How to Succeed at Content Marketing Even if Your Content Skills Suck"

"How to Write a Good eBook—You Know, the Kind That Doesn't Suck." 

"6 Words That Make Your Résumé Suck"

And now, my personal favorite:

"Clichés Suck"

Okay, ready? Time for the guy in the  tux to pass me the sealed envelope on silver tray). And the winner of the Best Cliché of 2009 is:

3. 'Rock star' 

If I hear one more writer compare a person or thing to a rock star, I'm going to light an incendiary device under my computer monitor, just like in those old movies where the trailer trash guy shoots the television.

Blog like a rock star.

Network like a rock star.

Use QuickBooks like a rock star. (Okay, I made that one up.)

All right. Enough with the "rock star."

Even the top bloggers, who I will be nice enough not to name here, are guilty. Here are two recent post titles:

"How to be A Rock Star in Your Niche"

"Rockstar Plugins You May Not Know About" (Now even a WordPress plugin can be a rock star!)

Rock star meant something once. Charismatic, passionate, attractive. (On second thought, looking at Arrowsmith's Steven Tyler, maybe not so much that last one).

But these words have had the life sucked out of them. The visual imagery is gone. Because if everyone can be a rock star, then it isn't that special anymore. 

There you go. Avoid these three clichés and you'll be on your way to becoming, as my blog post title so cleverly described:

A killer, rockstar writer who doesn't suck. 

The Art of Selling with Stories: Engage Your Readers

Ever sit down to write your brochure (yes, some people still do them) or blog post or newsletter article and there seems to be nothing left?  No ideas. Not even a coherent thought.

Your brain feels kind of airy and full of fluff. You write and rewrite and, still, you either sound like a college professor or a used car salesman.

American journalist and author Gene Fowler once said, "Writing is easy. All you have to do is stare at a blank sheet of paper until drops of blood form on your forehead."

Okay, it's not that hard. But sometimes it feels that way.

With all the salesish stuff out there, and all the dry, boring stuff out there, it's a wonder we read anyone's pitches.

So, what makes us read certain ads, blogs, e-letters? I mean, all the way to the end? 

It's because the writer grabs us by the collar and makes us look. She engages us. She makes us want to find out what's going to happen next. Kind of like a good story.

Make your readers see, feel, hear— laugh. Or cry. 

60 percent of us are visual learners. That means we need to see—or, at least picture— something in our mind's eye. Most of us like rich, descriptive words. And all of us like a good story.

Figure out ways to engage your readers by giving them images in your writing. From our earliest days, we remember better with pictures and stories. We just do. 

Stories are all around you

Stories can help you sell. Something you hear on the news might support a strategy you use or a service you offer. Something that happened to you can show how you overcame an obstacle. Sometimes a customer's success story (after using your product or service, of course) is perfect for making your point. 

At Cat's Eye Marketing, we have told the story of how we came up with our business name many times. Each time we tell it, we get a reaction because it is funny and touching at the same time. It goes something like this:

One day in early March, we were struggling with finding a unique name for our brand new graphic design business—something with spunk and style, yet different from everything else out there..

Four hours and hundreds of bright pink sticky notes later, Bob looked at the white board and said, "I don't like any of these. I think we should call it 'Cat's Eye.'"

Somehow it clicked. The name conjured attention to detail, persistence in capturing a client's vision, keen observation skills, the ability to pounce on a good idea, and to see "in the dark" what others cannot. We would be Cat's Eye.

24 hours later, a ferocious spring storm slammed Ocean Shores. Gale force winds, dark clouds, torrential rain. From the direction of the patio door, between the howls of the wind, I heard a short, faint cry. 

I opened the sliding door. Before me was a tiny, shivering kitten, barely standing. He was pure white with oversized ears that made him look like Yoda—and all bones. I scooped him up and dried him off. When I turned him around, I saw something. His right eye was green and his left,  bright blue.

It was an omen. Cat's Eye was the right name. Nuz, the kitten at death's door (yes, short for Nuzzle, which he still does on his hind legs, with a force that can push over) now tips the scale at 29 pounds and, as Cat's Eye's mascot, is in many of our promotional and advertising pieces.

Now, this story wasn't particularly created to sell anything, but it's amazing how many people remember it—and our name. And as far as branding goes, we run into people five years later, who we met only once,  and they will say, "Oh, yeah. Cat's Eye!" and extend their hand. They remember the story.   

Stories can help you teach

We are in the marketing business. You may sell other things.

If you offer consulting services, you are probably writing articles, newsletters and blogs that position you as an expert. Because why would anyone want to hire you if you weren't?

As you create content, look for ways to paint pictures that help your readers understand the concepts you are writing about.

In a recent etip on writing website copy, I compared web visitors to a Miata speeding along the freeway:

Picture a freeway in Montana. A freeway in 1995,  when there was no speed limit,

The long straight highway is pointing to infinity. The pavement is bare and dry. A bright yellow Miata convertible is whizzing along at a frightening speed—let's say 85 miles an hour.

It's a blur in that car. No one has much time to take in the scenery. The passenger in the front seat might pick out a landmark, a billboard that stands out, but not much more.

And they only see that for a nano-second and click—I mean, zoom—they're gone.

Your website is like that freeway. So does your site pass the frenzied-driver-with-too-much-on-her-mind test?

I went on to say that we're all in a hurry when we are on the web. That we just want to find what we freaking need and get out. And the rest of the e-tip? "Five Steps for Attracting Attention with Your Website Copy."

Where can you use stories?

Look around. If you watch and listen, you'll find all kinds of ways to use storytelling to pull your readers in and get them to take action.

Can you think of ways to sell with stories?

 

Stop being so nice: why negative headlines work

Do you ever scan the large-print teasers to National Enquirer stories in the checkout line at your favorite grocery store? Come on now, the truth.

Are you drawn to the stories of the poor souls Jerry Springer highlights in his episodes? 

Do you ever watch Judge Judy?

Okay. Here's a test: Knowing that you've done 80 percent of your job if you have written a compelling headline, one that pulls your reader into your sales copy, tell me. Would you use a negative headline if it made your customer sit up and take notice?

Why negative headlines work

Jonathan Fields, in a guest post on copyblogger, describes the use of negative headlines as 'train wreck blogging.' Why they work is connected to what social scientists call negativity bias: the proven theory that humans give more weight to negative than positive experiences. Studies show that negative information has more influence. We just pay attention to it more.

Why do we do this? While it may be partly our parents' fault (did you grow up in a glass-half-empty or glass-half-full family?), it goes beyond that. There is some evidence that we are hard-wired to be more curious about the negative. Take these headlines:

"Stop making these mistakes when you take family photos."

"What never…ever to eat on an airplane."

Now don't you want to read the photography article to make sure you're not making those mistakes? Aren't you wondering right now about what not to eat on an airplane, and just a little nervous that if you don't find out, you may be in trouble next time you fly?

Another reason the negative draws us in?  Because we want to see people whose lives are more out of control than ours are. We like it when the writer is transparent about their own life because, really, who's perfect? Here is one of my past blog post titles:

"Confessions of a recovering self-improvement junkie."

That post got one of three highest page views of the year. Why are we so attracted to the negative? Because it makes us feel better about the status of our own lives. I must not be that screwed up after all, 'cause look at her. She's a junkie.

It's not about you

Last week an attendee of our Marketing with E-newsletters got a deep frown on her face when I started talking about how to construct compelling headlines. She was holding my handout with five headlines, each written two ways. The task was to analyze each set and figure out which one worked better.

Headline A: "Opt-in rules for e-mail marketing"

Headline B: "E-mail marketing: how not to be a dirty rotten spammer"

She raised her hand. "I'm sorry, but headline B just completely turns me off," she said. "I do not respond to negative messages."

But the thing is (by the way, headline B is from a blog post of the remarkable Sonia Simone of Remarkable Communication), what she didn't get, was that she should be writing for her readers, not for herself. What will make them want to read the rest of her message?

Use with care

Negative headlines work because good writers use them sparingly. If every heading you write shouts at your reader,  or if you cross the line from provocative to insulting, the game's over. Be sure your reader knows that you were just having a little fun. Always deliver on the promise of your headline. And never make your readers feel that they were the butt of your joke.

It's probably a good idea to test your headlines, too. Experiment with two versions of your e-letter or e-mail sales message: 50 percent of your recipients get the negative headline and the other 50 percent receive the more positive one. Then you can analyze the open rates for each group.

How about you? Have you ever used a negative headline in your marketing or sales copy? Would you ever use one? 

Just Do It: The Nike 6-Step Guide to Writing Success

When I first started writing—I mean seriously writing— I was a mess. I noodled with every freaking word.

Okay. I'll put this word down.

Ackkkk! That one's not right. (Chews the skin off the edge of her thumb.)

Wait. Maybe this one. (Frowns, grabs the Roget's Thesaurus for 20 more synonyms for the word  "grow.")

It was like Mrs. Brumbley, my fourth grade teacher, had come back from the grave (okay, I don't really know if she's dead, but she must be by now).

Mrs. Brumbley was short. I told Mama she was fat the afternoon of the first day of school, at which time she corrected me.

"We don't say fat," Mama said. "It's more polite to say 'big-boned.'"

Big-boned Mrs. Brumbley would stand behind me, adjusting her glasses, clearing her throat in that gross "aug-g-g-h" sound she made. She ripped apart my summer vacation essay with bright, blood-red pencil marks. She found my penmanship to be in bad form when I turned in my first poem.

Mrs. Brumbley is exactly who you do not need when you are writing your brochure, flyer, blog post, e-newsletter or website. Your customers want to know you. Call it voice.  Call it whatever you want.  Just show the authentic you.

 Here it is, the Nike 6-Step Guide to Writing Success:

1. Strike the word "creative" from your vocabulary.

It's just a word. If you're like me, your stomach gets all balled up when a client says, "Just do something creative."

We had Cree-A-tive Writing class in high school. And just when I think that's behind me, a business networking group I belong to starts a Cree-A-tive Professionals group.

It's like we're all expected to show up with plans to save the world or something. That's just too much pressure. Deep down, don't we all wonder if we can live up to this creative crap?

2. Put your Mrs. Brumbley in a box.

Okay. Picture your Mrs. Brumbley. Maybe it was the sixth grade teacher who marked up your reports, circling all the misspelled words. Or your dad, who made you feel like doo-doo when you thought of a cool, but somewhat strange, idea.

Now here's the weird part. In your mind, shrink her (or him) down to the size of, oh, say, a rat. Pull out that shoebox that still has the new shoes smell in it and, holding her by the collar, drop her in.

Now if you're feeling a tinge of guilt, just punch a few holes in the box cover so she can breathe. If you can still hear her muffled sniveling (yes, she will still try), in your mind, deposit that shoebox outside the door.

You don't want to hear from Mrs. Brumbley.

3. Accept that you don't understand the process.

You're not supposed to. Stephen King calls your idea generators the "Boys in the Basement." They'll inspire you if you let them. They desperately want to be sprung from the basement, if only you'd open the door.

Whatever name you have for what happens when you write, just trust it. Don't try to analyze it. It's your right brain.

And, no, you don't really have two brains. It's the right side of your brain. It's where the party is. Where sometimes stupid things are said but, when you take a closer look, there's something interesting going on there.

4. Believe that,  just this one time, you can write something beautiful. 

You'd be amazed at how many truly gifted writers think they are a fake—a fluke.  They did something brilliant, but they can't do it again.

Bonnie Friedman, one of my favorite writers, says:

Every day I must prove to myself that I am a writer. The knowledge goes away in my sleep.

I go through this every single time I sit down to write. It's so normal I don't even pay attention to it anymore. I plunk myself down at the keyboard with the thought of writing just one article. Or blog post. Or e-tip.

So if you're thinking, "That was my only good idea, " you are wrong. You have many more. 

Trust me.

5. Listen and watch.

This is the fun part. Well, not always. We all have those off-the-wall ideas, but the problem is, they don't stick around for long.

Take Bob. All his Richtor-scale thoughts come to him though the showerhead. I am now trained to hear them every morning at the breakfast table. Skip the shower.  I think I could just get a pitcher of water and dump it on him and the ideas would explode from him.

Me? Not so easy. I get them early in the morning. Very early. Like between 12:30 and 3:30am. I have a notebook and pen on the nightstand. I'm thinking about getting one of those light-up pens so the blinding ceiling light doesn't completely wake me up.

Anyone know where to get one of those pens?

You might get blindsided when you are driving, or eating your morning cereal, or watching TV. Once the Boys in the Basement are out, they don't really care where they express themselves. 

Be ready. Keep a tape recorder in your car or your idea notebook in the bathroom.

You don't even have to do anything with them right now.

Just get them down.

6. Just do it.

All I'm sayin' is sit down and write something. 15 minutes or three pages. Every day. I know what you're thinking.

But when I do, garbage comes out.

Well, yes, it does. But if you keep at it, little gems will pop out, too. You'll go back and read it and think:

This idea, if I changed it a little bit, just might work.

I like the physical process of writing and so I need to grip my pen, a Rolling Writer that produces thick black strokes, or—better yet— my Schaefer fountain pen that oozes out in dark splats.

 Okay, I'm a writer, I get a little weird when I talk about pens.

Just remember to keep writing the whole time. There's something about it that frees up your right brain, where the Basement Boys live.

If you can't think of anything to write, put the words down, "I can't think of anything to say," and keep going. You'll  find that, after a few days, or weeks, you will have something to say and it may even surprise you.

Now you may not use a lot of your ideas in your marketing and advertising copy (and then again you might).

But the point is: This little exercise, done daily, or even 2-3 times a week, has an unexplainable effect on your brain. It  keeps other ideas flowing—wonderful ideas from how to market yourself better, to how to solve that problem your prospect has, the one that will bring you lots of new customers when you do. 

I think you should try it.

Just do it.

Where do you get stuck in the writing process?  Do you have a Mrs. Brumbley?