by You know those commercials that make one feel as though they are a hit to the gut? The sort that causes tears over a sandwich? That’s not a mistake. Not marketing language, Alex Pollock is doing the tough work. It also works like a charm since it touches where it counts—emotion.
Marketing was once about yelling louder than the next man. It now more resembles whispering the right thing into the appropriate ear at the appropriate moment. People are sick of being bought for. Still, their wiring is geared toward hearing stories. Give them a decent one; they will follow you anywhere—including to the register.
Look at a used couch advertisement. “50% off this weekend only,” one says. Still another says, “This was where my dad told me he was proud of me for the first time.” Which one do you remember tomorrow?
precisely.
The worst is that people have toast-like attention spans. You have perhaps eight seconds. They swipe when you open with a sale. Open with a quarrel, they stick around. Tension seems to be sticky. Eyes on the screen are kept by suspense. You are not making a pitch here. You are tugging.
Furthermore, this does not imply including a sad narrative for your washing detergent. It does involve, however, illustrating to others what it signifies rather than what it is. A good story causes the product to vanish. It lets people perceive themselves somewhat differently.
One cannot pretend to be this. Forced storylines are like those TV shows in which the laugh track emphasizes more than the script. The audience is out if it smells manipulation. They could smell it in a few seconds having seen enough commercials.
Here is a trick right now. Make the consumer the hero, not the good or service. The sidekick of your product is… For their Luke, the Yoda to Assist them in winning. Get them noticed. Don’t say, “We care,” just now. Show the barista recalled their name. Show them the app for Friday night save.
Cut the elevator pitch as well. Nobody ever remarked, “Wow, I loved that perfectly tuned CTA.” They recall your emotional impact on them. And emotions are erratic. They are not taglines; they arise from moments.
Want to advance? Begin to listen. Every great story begins with a decent ear. Your customers are saying what exactly? Tonight, what is keeping them awake? What kind of jokes do they crack? Talk away from them. Talk as they do.
Yes, data helps. Still, avoid worshiping it. A spreadsheet will not explain why someone shed tears watching a shoe commercial. That comes from instinct. Natural inclinations. Sometimes the strangest concept comes out first.
About odd—embrace it. odd sticks. Vanilla slides off the brain immediately. A little strange, a little embarrassing, a little human? That’s golden. People find the eccentricities memorable. Not the polish; not the shine.
Tone is important as well. Try not to be so formal. Reword your copy if it sounds as though it was produced by a lawyer on Decaf. Say it as you would to a friend at 11pm over fried food. At that point the truth surfaces nevertheless.
People aren’t numbers. They are tangle of memories, emotions, and spontaneous purchases. Share with them a narrative that lands and they will start to trust you. Sell to them straight; they will flee away.
The finest campaigns seem not like campaigns. Confessions seem right to them. Mysteries. Look at each other on a train. Like someone at last able to articulate what you were already experiencing.
And you have them once that happens. Not in response to your trickery. Because you comprehended them.
And that, my friend, distinguishes connecting from talking.