Copy Unlimited blog

Stories, positioning and perception – the cornerstones of marketing

Kevin — Fri, 11 May 2012 06:00:31 +0000

Cereal thriller, caffeine capers and sauce Hollandaise

The milk on my breakfast cereal tastes better this week. And yet, it’s exactly the same as I had last week, the week before, and every week for several years.

So what’s changed?

The packaging, of course.

Being an incurable cheapskate, I opt for Tesco’s Value range whenever I can. Not always – Value meat can be decidedly dodgy, so I steer clear of of that. But for most things, I can’t really see the point of paying more for fancy packaging. And since I shop online and have my groceries delivered to the door, I don’t suffer the social stigma felt by some people when they pick a Value product off the shelf.

But social stigma there is. And that’s why Tesco, as part of of its aggressive fight-back following dismal results, has decided that it’s out with the old (Value) and in with the new: Everyday Value.

The new packaging looks more upmarket, with jaunty clip-art images. It’s warmer, playful and more friendly. And of course it influences how people perceive the range of products.

And how they taste. The new milk, splashed liberally over my bran flakes, tastes creamier (though it’s skimmed) more expensive (though it’s not) and new (it isn’t).

Funny, isn’t it?

Not really.

From bean to cup…

We see what we want to see, and what our senses, emotions and conditioning allow us to see. And touch, taste, feel.

Just last week, I had a friend round for coffee.

“Isn’t this wonderful?” I asked, gesturing to the drink he’d just taken a sip of. “It’s a new Sainsbury’s Taste the Difference Guatemalan coffee. It’s really expensive, but it’s worth it.”

He agreed. And he could taste the difference, he said.

It was rich, deep, aromatic and evocative of the lush plantations of Central America. And just sipping it conjured up images of happy workers toiling in the fields for a decent wage (it was Fairtrade, I told him) to create a delicious beverage.

Except it wasn’t true. Any of it. It wasn’t Guatemalan, it wasn’t Fairtrade, and it wasn’t any different to the coffee he’d had the previous week.

Cynical, manipulative, scheming – moi?

Well, yes and no. You see, my friend had set himself up for this particular challenge. He’s a devotee of high-end brands, and wouldn’t be seen within 10 yards of a mid-market product.

But it’s not just the cachet of the label he appreciates, the bragging value and the kudos he earns. He genuinely believes that these expensive luxury lines are discernibly different to those lower down the hierarchy.

And he feels the same about ethical brands. They taste better because they are better – and they make him feel better, so everybody wins.

When I’d said the previous week that his perception was all down to positioning and storytelling, he’d dismissed it with an imperious wave of the hand.

It was a challenge I couldn’t ignore. And last week, he became my unwitting victim.

Assume the position

How you tell a story – the story of your company, products, brands, services, news – is as important as the story itself.

We’ve all experienced the same joke told by two people, one to hilarious effect, the other met with a wall of silence and polite bemusement.

It’s all down to how you frame it, how you position the offering, and how you mete out the facts.

Just look at what’s happened in France. We’re in the worst economic crisis since the 1930s, or possibly ever. The facts (debt, deficit, flatlining growth) are public knowledge.

And yet François Hollande has managed to spin them in a way that’s captured the Gallic imagination. Out with austerity, fiscal compacts and hairshirts. In with dreams, hopes and bright new socialist dawns.

How he’s going to do this remains to be seen – and very soon, reality may just come knocking on his door. But on Sunday night, in the Place de la Bastille, it was déjà vu all over again, with echoes of Mitterrand in 1981.

Never mind the facts: the story was good, and it hit home.

We’ve seen that on this side of the Channel too. Just two short years ago, everybody had the catchphrase ‘I agree with Nick’ [Clegg] ringing in their ears. The Lib Dem leader was more popular than Churchill, the polls told us. He was riding on an unstoppable wave of popularity.

Two years on, the Lib Dems achieved (if that’s the word) the worst score ever in local elections.

Stories, positioning, and perception. The three cornerstones of politics, life and love.

Oh, and marketing, of course. Don’t forget marketing.

As for my friend, well he’s coming around again next week. That’s when I’ll break the news to him – over a delicious cup of bog-standard coffee.

Learn more:

It ain’t what you do. Positioning: The Battle for Your Mind by Al Ries and Jack Trout, the definitive guide to controlling the marketing message.

FOMO or focus? I know which one I’d choose.

Kevin — Fri, 27 Apr 2012 06:00:30 +0000

We can’t have it all – so we shouldn’t even try.

Do you suffer from FOMO?

In our always-on, 24/7 world, it seems most of us do these days.

Fear of missing out is the plague of the digital age. What are people tweeting about? Who’s doing what on Facebook? Are they having more fun than us? And if we don’t get online right now, how are we ever going to catch up?

In a personal context, it’s not so serious. FOMO, and its near relation nomophobia (fear of being without your mobile) are the natural consequence of a connected world. It can lead to mild anxiety and a niggling fear of social exclusion, but apart from that, there’s no price to pay.

In a professional context, that’s far from the case. If you suffer from FOMO Pro, the business strain of the virus, then you could have a serious problem.

None of us wants to miss out. We want more customers, more sales, more meetings, more tweets, more blog posts, more followers, more readers.

But unless it means more sales, more means less.

Different strokes

As an amateur (very amateur) artist, I like visiting exhibitions. And my favourite paintings, drawings and sketches are the ones that don’t quite look finished. It’s one of the reasons I like the Impressionists. They suggest rather than describe, and leave something to my imagination.

At the opposite end of the spectrum are photo-realistic painters, who capture every last detail of their subject. Their technique is startlingly life-like, showing total mastery of the medium and astonishing powers of observation.

And yet, it leaves me cold. If you want to paint in a photo-realistic style, why not simply take a photograph?

For the same reason, the best plays and films leave you to fill in the gaps. A quick snatch of dialogue or a glimpsed panorama is enough to suggest what’s just happened or is about to happen.

They supply the dots. We join them.

And it’s better that way, as we’re involved, and feel like we’re bringing something to the experience.

Market forces

The common thread here is focus. They can’t say everything, and they can’t represent everything. So they don’t, and the work ends up being more effective.

Or put another way, there’s no fear of missing out. If you concentrate on what’s important, the rest will follow. And everybody enjoys the process more.

The same is true of marketing – and even more so of copywriting. You can’t appeal to everybody, because nobody can. You can’t write for everybody, because then you write for nobody.

So prioritise your prospects. Shorten your story. Curb your choices. Prune your products. Thin out your text.

Whether it’s a scene in a play or a flower in a painting, a marketing campaign or a mailshot, it’s more a case of what you leave out than what you put in. The more you leave out, the more what’s left will get noticed.

Fewer choices mean more people choose. Shorter pages mean more people read. Simpler stories mean more people understand.

Fear of missing out, just like regret, is only human (what if…?). But in a sales and marketing context, it’s almost always counter-productive. Try to have it all and you might just end up with nothing.

So FOMO or focus? No contest. Focus wins by a mile, every time.

And you wouldn’t want to miss out on that.

Find out more:

Mobile mania: Rise in nomophobia: fear of being without a phone at the Daily Telegraph.
Miracle cure: timeRAZOR App Cures “Fear Of Missing Out” (FOMO) at brandchannel.com

Convincing your prospects is easier than you think

Kevin — Fri, 13 Apr 2012 06:00:36 +0000

We’re all suggestible. So go on – suggest.

Just last week, I was in a public toilet. Or restroom, if you prefer (I don’t – it’s just about the last place I’d want to rest).

And there, above the urinal, was a sign that said Now wash your hands. The thing is, I was going to anyway – because that’s what you do when you’ve done what you had to do.

So I did it – but this time, it was with more conviction. And above the washbasin, there was another notice, as bossy and hectoring as the first, that told me to use soap.

So I did.

Now normally, I kick against the system, and resent being told what to do. It was only afterwards, as I emerged from the ammonia-soaked air of the public convenience, blinking into the light of a sun-filled day, that I realised just how powerful a simple suggestion is.

The mere fact of suggesting something increases the chance that we’ll do it.

No sooner said than done

“They’ll never go for that,” said a client of mine recently.

We were discussing whether readers would do something specific, simply because we asked them to. Or put another way, whether they’d heed a call to action – the cornerstone of marketing.

We weren’t asking them to do anything too ambitious. It wasn’t deceptive, or dishonest, or unrealistic. It was simply chivvying them along the sales cycle, and asking them to take the next step.

It’s just that my client thought people needed more evidence. She said they wouldn’t take action without more convincing arguments.

But often, arguments and evidence confuse us. We want simple choices. We want people to tell us what to do.

So some will take that step, I countered, just to put an end to the information phase and move to the action phase. And some won’t. But one thing is certain: if you don’t say it, none will.

So we did. And they did. And frankly, we were both surprised.

Another one bites the dirt

You’re in your kitchen. There’s a half-eaten chocolate-chip cookie on the plate, started but not finished by your brother/sister/mother/father/girlfriend/boyfriend/best friend.

They’ve gone off to watch TV, by the way, and they’re unlikely to be back anytime soon.

Would you consider finishing it? Chances are, you probably would.

Now you’re in Starbucks. Same scenario: cookie, plate, nobody around. Would you consider polishing off this one?

Probably not.

And yet you can’t catch anything from a cookie. Apart from few extra kilos, that is. It’s that the power of suggestion (What if it’s not clean? What if they come back? What if I get caught? What if somebody sees me? What if it’s off?) that stops you.

Flushed with success

Once the suggestion is there, it’s very difficult to dislodge it.

It’s something that Brent Haddad of the University of California at Santa Cruz discovered when he looked a people’s attitudes to recycled water.

In particular, recycled sewage water. See? You’re already thinking yuck. As I was – it’s the Starbucks-choc-chip-cookie syndrome.

And yet it’s not true.

Recycled sewage water is perfectly drinkable. In fact, it’s cleaner than some spring water (you think animals and fish don’t need to answer nature’s call?) and most river water.

And yet, that’s not what people tell themselves. If recycled water is subsequently passed through an aquifer (an underground layer of water-bearing rock) then in their minds, it’s cleaner.

Except it’s not. In fact, that process makes it more impure. But the suggestion – in this case the auto-suggestion – outweighs the evidence.

It’s what one psychologist calls ‘cognitive sewage’ i.e. it’s all in the mind.

All in the mind – just like product differentiation, marketing promises, and aspirational claims.

Either they suggest it to themselves, or you do. So get suggesting. (But make sure it’s grounded in fact, backed up by evidence and carried through with service.)

It always, always works – trust me.

Now wash your hands.

Find out more:

Stream of consciousness: Why Cleaned Wastewater Stays Dirty In Our Minds at NPR.org.

Competition, toxic brands and niche niches

Kevin — Fri, 30 Mar 2012 06:00:59 +0000

Mentioning them, turning them around, and avoiding them

Where does the time go? The clocks have gone forward, spring has sprung and once again it’s over to Copycam, where my random happy (and not-so-happy) snaps take the place of words.

Mentioning the competition is always a thorny topic. If you do, you run the risk of seeming defensive, and you may just raise a doubt or plant a seed that grows in your neighbour’s garden.

If you don’t, you could appear complacent.

So what’s the middle path?

As always, it’s to tread lightly and do it with style and insouciance. Much like Eat, the fast-food chain did recently. They didn’t directly mention the competition. Instead, they let somebody else do it for them.

Time Out, the London listings mag that’s been around for ever, summed it up succinctly:

And it’s on 100% recycled paper – could they be more virtuous? (Or more smug?)

A third-party endorsement is always better than talking directly about your competitors. It carries more weight, seems more independent, and keeps you on the moral high ground.

Which is just where you want to be.

Lesson 1: when it comes to the competition, tread softly (and let somebody else carry a big stick).

Back from the brink

Remember Northern Rock? Who doesn’t.

Back in 2007, as they looked increasingly close to collapse, they were at the centre of the first run on a British bank since 1866. Long queues formed outside branches countrywide, as worried savers rushed to withdraw their hard-earned money.

Bad karma – and even worse PR.

Northern Rock turned into a toxic brand, that nobody would touch. So the government was forced to step in and nationalise it.

A hopeless case, you’d think. And yet, last November Virgin Money took a deep breath and forked out £747m (that’s $1.1bn, give or take) for it.

Why?

Because it had reached rock bottom (pardon the pun) and was a good bargain. And because Virgin’s fairy dust can work miracles.

They’ve now started rebranding the branches, as I saw last week in Cambridge:

Zoom in and you’ll see this:

First come the decals in the window. Next will be a total makeover. And before long, Northern Rock will slowly sink into the ground, leaving nothing but Virgin territory.

As Freddie said, it’s a kind of magic. Brand magic.

Lesson 2: never underestimate the power of brand.

Circles within circles

Some brands, ideas and businesses, however, are beyond help.

Niche products and services are a great idea: you serve a specific sector of the market, and you become the go-t0 person for that niche. You don’t try to be all things to all people, but focus on one area, knowing that it’s a profitable one.

And that’s the key. It’s got to be profitable.

Which is why you should always do your homework to make sure your niche is big enough to support your business. If not, expand the niche – otherwise your business model will very quickly become unsustainable.

As did that of Hawkin’s Bazaar in Cambridge.

It sold the sort of odd things you see in those catalogues that fall out of your favourite magazines: reading lights on headbands, lava lamps with built-in speaking clocks and odd-shaped back-scratchers.

More bizarre than bazaar. In fact, I marvelled that it was still standing in the worst economic downturn since the 30s.

Not any longer. Last week, I saw it had closed.

Ironically, its tagline foretold its destiny:

Those things had gone for ever for a reason. And people never knew they existed because they didn’t need to.

Lesson 3: niches are good. Just make sure they’re not niche niches.

The only number you need to get results

Kevin — Fri, 16 Mar 2012 06:00:14 +0000

The Power of One trumps every other number in your marketing toolkit

I could hardly believe my ears.

“So you’re telling me you had to make another appointment?” I asked incredulously.

My friend stirred her skinny frappé, clinked her spoon onto the saucer and took a sip of the steaming brew.

“Yes,” she replied. “One problem at a time – that’s what the doctor said. When I told him it might actually save time to kill two birds with one stone – not the best choice of words, I admit – he said it was a false economy.”

She seemed unnaturally calm, so clearly her blood pressure was under control. Mine wouldn’t have been, faced with such bureaucratic pigheadedness, so I asked what her secret was. Meditation? Deep breathing? Prozac?

“None of the above,” she said with a smile. “I just saw it made sense.”

And then she explained why.

Medical manoeuvres

I must admit, I was sceptical at first. But then, I began to see her point. As one frappé led to another, she slowly brought me round to her way of thinking.

Here’s the espresso version:

Appointment slots are limited (10 minutes).
It’s important not to rush things. Or rather, to rush them even more.
If you know that you have something else to attend to, you’re not giving the first thing your undivided attention. It applies to everybody, including doctors.
The two things may or may not be related, so you don’t want the first to influence the second, or vice versa.
Focusing on one thing is always more effective, and always leads to better results (medical and non-medical, she felt it necessary to add).

And you know what? I agree with her diagnosis.

What on the face of it seems like a process-led, jobsworth, pettifogging approach, actually makes sense when you think about it.

And it’s exactly what I do every day, when I don my white coat, check my client charts and dissect a copywriting brief.

The marketing treatment

Giving one thing your complete attention is more satisfying, whether it’s a meal, a film, a book, or a conversation. And that especially applies in today’s always-on world, with its constant distractions and temptations.

It works for you, and it works for your client, reader, prospect, contact, and just about anybody else you can think of.

Yes, yes, I know, you have a lot to say. But they’re busy and assailed from all angles by marketing messages.

You have a limited time – like the doctor, except it’s usually seconds, not minutes. So you need to know what you want to do with it.

The doctor wants to cure one specific problem. You want to address one specific aim: sell, inform, persuade, get them to take action.

So what’s your marketing medication? I’m not thinking a fistful of pills here, but a targeted approach that gets to the heart of the problem.

What’s the ONE main point of your piece of communication?
What’s the ONE action you want people to take?
Maybe you don’t have a typical reader – and I hear this over and over (“it appeals to all types of people”) – but if you absolutely had to describe your ONE ideal client, what would they look like? Write for that one person, and everything else will follow. Even the ones who aren’t like that are close enough to get the message.

Say everything, and you say nothing. Address everybody, and you address nobody. Try to get people to remember 10 things, and they remember none.

So let me practice what I preach. What’s the one thing I want you to take away from this?

Simple: remember the Power of One. One message, one client, one point, one action.

And one result. Success.

Kill or cure

So did my friend make the second appointment? And did the one-problem-per-visit approach work?

“It certainly did. The first problem is under control. As for the second – well, he told me to drink less coffee,” she said, with a twinkle in her eye.

She picked up her oversized mug and slurped her creamy concoction.

“But you know what? I can only follow one course of treatment at a time.”

I’ll drink to that.