words that work
I’ve been de-junking (again).
First to go were the old pullovers with funky designs, that now look so yesterday. Then the jeans I hadn’t worn for ages, the smart work shirts (why did I ever think I’d need them again?) and the mohair overcoat (don’t go there). They all went to the Red Cross.
Then it was the turn of the novels I swore I’d read again, but secretly knew I wouldn’t. They were in every room in the house, to the point where they were beginning to take over. And since I’m now a zealous e-reader convert, physical books are like funky pullovers. So they went to the British Heart Foundation.
Next on my list were the hundreds of leaflets and flyers that I’ve hoarded over the years. Just in case I really want a conservatory, or an attractive bright orange fence, or even a TOWIE-style crazy-paving patio.
Not to mention the service leaflets. Cleaners, tree-fellers, plumbers, sash-window repairers, window cleaners and gardeners. Reflexologists and knife sharpeners, party organisers and personal trainers.
I couldn’t bring myself to throw them all out, so I decided on a simple but effective system.
If they sold benefits, they were in. If they sold features, they were out. If they gave me convincing reasons to use them, they were in. If they simply listed the services they offered… well, you get the picture.
Sara (does she even exist, I wonder?) is ‘the mum I’ve always wanted to be’. But what exactly does that mean?
Well that’s the genius of this particular line: it means whatever people read into it. Perhaps she can keep up with the kids, or compete with the yummy mummies at the school gate, or not embarrass her daughter. Maybe she gets less tired, can do more, smiles a bit more often, feels better and communicates that to her daughter.
Or maybe not.
Each reader will have their own interpretation of Sara’s line. But the important thing here is that they’re not selling the sausage. In fact, I imagine sausages are off the menu for a very long time. Instead, they’re selling the sizzle – the anticipation of what’s to come, the promise of something that has you imagining what it’ll feel like.
In other word, the benefits, not the features.