Thursday, 8:35pm
Reno, NV
“How do I get out of this chickenshit outfit?” Pvt. Hudson, “Aliens”
Howdy…
Okay, so I’m a little grumpy today. I’m still exhausted from the Kern “Mass Control” seminar (major blast, but even fun can suck the juice out of you), I’ve still got days of hard work ahead getting ready for the workshop next week…
… and we just had a flurry of FIFTY freaking earthquakes today. The largest was 4.2 (definitely not fun), and there were at least half a dozen over 3.0 (the kind that rattle the eaves).
This would be a slow news day in California… but folks in Northern Nevada are freaking out. Like most of the continent, we’re settled on a few fault lines here and there. But they’ve never been this antsy before, that anyone remembers (or has kept records of).
So if you never hear from me again, you’ll know why.
Freakin’ earth swallowed us up.
So, yeah, I’m a little grumpy.
And I want to take full advantage of this grumpiness… and continue, just a wee bit further, on last week’s post on paying taxes.
First, let me be clear: I LOVE it that people post comments, and I urge you to disagree with me whenever you feel the need. That kind of “heat” keeps the blog full of energy and action. I wanna hear whatever you have to say. Don’t be shy.
Not that any of you are.
If you read the comments from the most-recent “Cuz I’m The Taxman” post, you will have noticed the plethora of near-dumbfounded disagreement with my attitude about paying The Man his pound of flesh. I know many of the posters, and I respect and like them. (Yes, in spite of the flogging they delivered.) (Hey — “blog flogging”! Much better than the tired old “flaming” phrase, don’t you think? I just invented another word!)
And trust me on this: Because of a tech glitch, only a fraction of the comments made it into the blog. The rest, I had delivered via email… and man, they were viscious.
Because, when it comes to ideology… and getting all riled up about taxes is very much an ideology… sparks can fly.
And I must have gouged an ideological nerve with that post.
To recap: I wrote about my feeling of “belonging” when I first paid quarterly taxes as a freelancer. Early in my career — because of my success — those estimated payments alone were more than what I used to earn in a year.
And, instead of obsessing on having to “give up” all that money… especially to a dysfunctional government that was dead-set on wasting it… I chose to take the advice of a very, very rich man who was also very, very centered and happy. His nudge: Pay all you owe, and forget about it.
In fact, he said, look at your glass as half full — you’re paying so much, because you’ve earned so much. You’re a freakin’ success. Go make more.
Stop bitching.
Gary Halbert and I used to have a saying: “Just tell me who to pay, and how much.”
It was our code for GETTING THINGS DONE. The joke was that, in a world run by gangs and mobs — which is how the joint IS run, without organized governments, by the way — you were expected to pay extortion, protection and bribes just to engage in normal biz activity. And so what if it’s now called “taxes”.
Just point out the guy I’m supposed to pay, and let me get on with my day.
The other relevant saying: “Choose your battles.”
You wanna get all high-blood-pressured over something? First, make sure it’s a matter you have some control over.
Otherwise, you’re like the fabled king who stood on the shore ordering the ocean to stop making waves. Huff, and puff, and blow as hard as you like — if you’re railing against a monster that will swat you like a gnat, then you’ve chosen the wrong battle.
Check Sun Tzu if you need to. The Art Of War is all about achieving desired results, not “winning”. You can let the other guy win all the battles, and still end up demolishing him. You only reach the real endgame intact and ahead… IF you know what the war really is about.
For me — and for the scattered few folks out there who share my shrugging off of the “tax burden” — I’ve got better things to do than obsess on taxes. Things I can control. Like being successful.
Guys like my old buddy Ken C., and Jim, and Ian, and Kyle in the comments section understand. Thanks for chiming in, boys. I was starting to feel like a punching bag.
And if you read my prior post without letting your rage blot out your eyesight first, you know that my meaning was clear: Taxes suck (that’s a quote)… the world’s not perfect… and this is a piss-poor battle to choose to fight.
Cuz you’ll lose.
Yes, the government is riven with corruption. Yes, the education system is a rat’s nest of problems. Yes, America is stumbling like a giant drunken beast, lashing out blindly and ineffectively.
Things aren’t perfect. They aren’t even remotely good.
So fucking what?
I’ve been on the warpath against idealism for decades now. I loathe idealism because I WAS an idealist when I was young. I saw the flaws in the system, and I recoiled in horror. No way could I join the adult world, if it insisted on existing in a flimsy state of near-unconscious stupidity. Count me out, dude.
Except, that attitude didn’t work out so well for me as time wore on.
And I didn’t have to leave my intelligence, or my dignity, or my lust for making a difference at the door when I finally entered the business world and became a full-fledged capitalist.
Idealism sucks. It’s a mostly-empty threat to take your ball and go home unless everyone immediately starts playing by your rules… and the universe will laugh at you for the entire time you insist on this quixotic quest for an ideal civilization.
Me? I’m amazed that civilization works at all. As a species, we’ve still got one foot firmly back in the primeval jungle. The corruption and bullying and murderous greed that soils our culture is imbedded in our DNA. Our natural state is closer to anarchy than order… and if you just got through your day without barbarians torching and pillaging your town, then you may need to sit back and take stock of exactly what we’ve accomplished in this imperfect country.
Yeah, I hate a lot about the place. I’m appalled at the high incarneration rate, embarrassed by our national level of ignorance about the rest of the world, and saddened by the aggressive dunderheaded arrogance of our leaders.
I’m also nervous about the way critical thinking is denigrated, and pissed off that celebrity has become a religion.
Are these battles I can fight? In small ways, perhaps. I’m not above choosing a fight that will exhaust me. And yet, I can count rather impressive numbers of people whose lives have been affected by what I’ve shared. It’s a long way from a revolution, but I’m damn proud of having dragged (kicking and screaming) a small mob of folks into business success, by helping them break down the process (and the obstacles) and get busy with living the life we OWE all the men and women who died to keep some trace of real freedom alive in this little democratic experiment.
Yes, our country is flawed.
It is still, however, the dream of every serf and slave and vanquished schlub over the long, cruel course of history who ever wished for just a small shot at being able to live without undue interference. Without a boot on his neck. With an equal opportunity to do what he wanted, how he wanted to do it.
The folks whose heads explode even thinkiing about taxes need to stop and consider: Even though a huge percentage of your dough is being confiscated by the gummit… are you being restrained from being more successful? Has some jack-booted thug come by and placed a ceiling on your dreams and goals? Are you being thwarted from creating your own little empire of wealth and fame?
Okay, if your idea of a good biz is engaging in illegal shit, then sure — you’re being thwarted.
Otherwise… gimme a break.
Choose your battles.
And if you want a seat at the Feast of Life, get your head clear. People with a chip on their shoulder, permanently pissed off about boogeymen coming to steal their “stuff”, aren’t welcome. The Feast is an optimistic place — not immune from caution, prepared for calamity, and alarmed at real dangers… but still hugely and gratefully optimistic.
The entire world needs help. Not bitching and moaning, but real help.
And we can all start by tending our own gardens, and doing what we can to harrass the evil bastards who want the good times brought down.
Choose your battles. If it’s taxes, then great — I wish you all the luck in world. Taxes suck.
It’s just not my battle. I’ve got other, equally urgent and important things to attend to. And I enjoy not having my head explode every time I need to write a check for estimated taxes. I spend somewhere in the vicinity of eight hours a year even thinking about taxes. That’s it.
The rest of my time is mine. To quote Pete Townsend, I call that a bargain.
Geez, I AM grumpy today.
I’ll be better tomorrow, I promise.
If the earth doesn’t swallow us up, that is.
Just felt another one. Screw it — I’m off to the fridge for a cold pale ale…
Stay frosty,
John Carlton
www.carltoncoaching.com
P.S. At the Mass Control seminar, I announced to the world that we were taking the Bag of Tricks off the table very soon. So it’s officially on the nearly-extinct list… a breath-taking offer so generous (especially with personal attention from me) it will be the stuff of myth when it’s finally gone.
However, we will honor all promises as long as the offer is up at www.marketingrebel.com.
If the reason your head is exploding is your lack of biz success, then you may wanna check it out.
While it’s still an option, that is.
P.P.S. And, right on cue… Hollywood star Wesley Snipes just got handed a 3-year jail term for avoiding taxes. Misdemeanors. Three years.
He did not wisely choose his battle.
The Fed plays rough.
Thursday, 9:17pm
Reno, NV
“Please step over here and remove your dignity…”
Howdy…
Have you ever tried to teach a dog to piss in the back yard?
It takes patience and determination. (As my friend and long-time client Bob Pierce says: “Sometimes, you gotta be smarter than the dog.”)
You’re forcing an animal that has already been perfectly tuned-up by Nature (to hunt, scavenge, and survive in the wild with his pack) to conform to some very unreasonable (in his eyes, anyway) demands.
I mean, it’s nice and warm inside. What’s so wrong about peeing on the sofa, anyway?
To Fido, you are a harsh taskmaster with silly and hysterical notions about elimination.
And yet… you have opposable thumbs, and know how to open the fridge and the front door and other amazing things.
It’s confusing. But Fideo obeys, eventually, because there is a payoff. Belly rubs, happy humans, jaunts on the leash (not quite like running down deer with the pack, but close enough), and big wet Read more…
Monday, 6:52pm
Reno, NV
“Where ignorance is bliss, ’tis folly to be wise.” Thomas Gray
Howdy…
There is a LOT of crap lining the shelves at your local bookstores. And the library. And the ebook realm of your virtual reach.
This, however, is not an excuse to turn your back on books. Or learning. Or (especially or) constantly nudging yourself out of your comfort zone into new territory, where you must learn and adapt and consistenly engage until you meet the new challenges and regain a fresh level of comfort.
So you can start the process all over again, with new challenges.
This kind of movement is, in fact, an act of courage.
Because, in most cases, Read more…
Thursday, 8:33pm
Reno, NV
“…and it freakin’ hurts, too…”
Howdy,
The good thing about slogans… is that they can help you remember otherwise complex processes and lessons… and sort of compact a library’s worth of info down into a tidy, pithy, memorable saying.
The bad thing… is that you still gotta understand the “long” version of the process or lesson first.
Life tends to mess harshly with people who try to shortcut things, and operate with a knowledge base full of fortune-cookie-sized bits of insight.
Chew your ass up good, and spit you out. Ptooi!
I’ve seen it happen, a lot. Not pretty.
Take “ready, fire, aim.” Nice slogan. Smacks of contrarian attitude, a willingness to suck up risk and face the Unknown with minimum preparation, shows cool contempt for formal rules.
Oh, you bad boy, you.
There are around a gazillion business books out there right now using some variation of this slogan as their theme. As a catch-phrase, it kind of identifies how rebellious entrepreneurs like to think of themselves.
The thing is… I think everyone totally misunderstands the most critical part Read more…
Wednesday, 8:35am
Orlando, FL
The horror… the horror…
Howdy,
I’m sitting in my forty-year-old hotel room here at Disney World (Walt built the Contemporary as a “futuristic” hotel back in ’69 and — while not a bad place to stay — it’s got details that smack of a “B” sci-fi movie, like too much glass and aluminum under too-low ceilings) and I’m gearing up for a 13-hour ordeal flying the unfriendly skies to get home.
I’m frigging exhausted, but in a good way.
Because my mind has been violently stripped clean of extraneous thought, and I’m just too tired to dwell on much of the bullshit that occupies my brain during normal operating conditions.
It’s a Zen kind of thing. I’ve got enough energy to pack and make my final travel arrangements of shuttle, check-in, charge the iPod, etc. But mostly, my mind is clear.
I won’t bore you with the details. I flew into Orlando a week ago, to play golf with our good pal Dean Jackson (Mr. Leisure) for two days… then host a two-day intense “interactive” workshop on the inside details of writing killer copy… and THEN pull a two-hour shift onstage at Rich’s main event here, doing an interactive talk to a vast crowd of ravenous seminar attendees.
Plus, of course, there has been the usual naughty carousing behind the scenes most evenings.
I tell ya, the week’s been an adventure that would have killed a younger (and less philosophically-prepared) man. It’s certainly left me completely drained of creative energy.
Which is good.
I’m serious. I’ve known many creative types who never empty their tanks completely — they get into a comfy groove where they work regularly, but never face the physical/mental challenge of really putting their ass on the line.
The back-up of “modern” intellectual thinking piles up… and before you know it, you’re a thoughtful mess. Any Big Idea you come up with is laden with soggy baggage from other ideas you haven’t cleared out from a year before.
As my buddy Frank Kern says, you turn into a Howard Hughes clone.
One of the first lessons I learned during my quest to secure a seat at The Feast of Life was to “be a good animal”. And that requires lots of physical exertion — lots of it. Writers who don’t exercise tend to get horrific build-ups of carbon dioxide in their lungs (just for starters), which can make you permanently sleepy at the desk.
There’s also a very intriguing theory that most back pain is your body struggling to bolt from the desk and run away from the grind… the old “flight” part of our hard wiring… and since you won’t allow that, your back is in constant strain and stress.
Makes sense.
For me, the occasional balls-to-the-wall seminar event actually acts as a minor vacation for my brain. Yes, even though I’m still thinking and talking about marketing and advertising and copywriting.
It’s the physical part that matters. Shaking hands, talking to strangers, navigating airports and hotels, sleeping in a strange room… all of it brings the animal part of your nature to the forefront.
I’m all for grooves. At home, in my messy office, I have created a place where I can execute with maximum creativity and super-sharp thinking.
But if I don’t occasionally empty the tank and get a fresh perspective on things, I get dull.
Already, this morning, each non-essential thought that bubbles up just pops and vanishes. I haven’t got the juice to worry, or fret, or even try to think of solutions… other than what I need to get through the trip ahead.
I just “am”, right now. Functioning at a low stage of the Maslow Hierarchy of Needs.
And I know, from experience, that when I’m settled in my office again tomorrow… I’ll be able to look at everything with fresh eyes and a fully-charged mind. The week has been well-spent, draining the bullshit and allowing my wounded creativity to mend and grow strong again.
Exhaustion is good, sometimes. Not as a permanent situation, of course. But when you vacation, or have a chance to saddle-up during a seminar, I suggest you take advantage of the adventure and go deep.
You can’t mine the gems in your head if the fertile part of your mind is covered with mulch.
You know what I mean?
Stay frosty,
John Carlton
www.carltoncoaching.com
P.S. I’m sorry you couldn’t experience that intense, interactive 2-day workshop. I compiled — for the first time — a 17-point “menu” of the steps I’ve been going through (unconsciously) for the bulk of my career… before I sit down to write any copy.
And that’s what I taught — essentially, the core secret of how I write.
Knocking off each of these 17 points beforehand just makes copywriting zip along on a greased slide. Headlines write themselves, your close is a breeze to concoct, you hit every single classic salesmanship angle there is (including the turbulence, spicy testimonies, and specific USP elements that most rookies ignore) and on and on. You line up your ducks, and you become a sales-generating machine.
It was wicked-good fun, too, working so closely and interactively with the attendees.
I love teaching, when it’s done right. Which, again, is exhausting.
Anyway, this isn’t a pitch. This was the first time I’d ever let anyone know about this 17-point menu behind my success, and I’m just happy the workshop went off so well.
I’m considering offering it again, but we haven’t made any plans (and may not — it was, as I said, exhausting, because of all the interactive teaching) (which included tons of writing, critiquing on the spot, and going deep on every point). I totally invested myself in forcing the attendees to “get it”.
I’ve only offered four seminars on my own since starting Marketing Rebel six years ago. This workshop was a favor to Rich Schefren, a good friend and fellow marketer. And boy, does he ever owe me now. I feel like the Godfather, with a back-pocket stuffed with favors I can pull out whenever I need someone waxed.
Anyway, it’s time to haul my crap downstairs and get my head into “travel mode”. I gotta split.
My bet is, the TSA crew at the airport have been working on new indignities for passengers since my last trip through the security line…
Didja miss me?
Monday, 1:42pm
Reno, NV
I’m not panicked — I’m just expelling stress…
Howdy…
Okay, I’m a little panicked. But not in a bad way.
What you’ve got here is a dude (me) who has found his groove while in his home office — relaxed, productive, having fun… who is preparing to be jettisoned out into the cruel world of airline travel and travel.
And I’m trying to get about a week’s worth of work done in two days here. While packing and futzing with my PowerPoint presentation.
I’m sweating.
See, I’m off to Orlando for two seminars — first, a private workshop over the weekend, where I’ll be personally coaching people on copy… and then, right after that, Rich Schefren’s big event, where I’ll be delivering an interactive presentation.
Working without a net the entire time.
I enjoy these big damn events, once I get to the hotel and get settled. It’s the travel that gets to me — I’ve got a six a.m. flight, one plane change (in Atlanta, no less — a truly abysmal airport), and I’m forced to check luggage this time (which means I may never see a lot of my favorite clothes again).
I’ll be gone for a week, so don’t burn the place down while I’m gone.
I’ll try to blog from the road. (I’ll be fully armed with computers and high-speed web, but short on time and energy.)
In the meantime, I’ve pulled a post from the Radio Rant Coaching Club, and pasted it below for your edification and enjoyment. As much as I share in this blog, you know, I do even more for the guys in the coaching club. (That’s a small pitch — if you haven’t checked out the opportunities of the coaching club yet, you’re being foolish. Go to www.carltoncoaching.com right now, and get your free trial month. Just do it.)
This post below was my answer to a Forum query about the role of a sense of humor in creating advertising. Not in the copy — but behind the copy, in the head of the writer.
This is an important topic, cuz people screw it up so often. I have lots more to say about this, and if you want, we’ll do a deeper discussion later. Please post your comments on this, and let me know what you think.
Here’s the post from the Radio Rant Coaching Club:
Ahem.
The subject of developing, or finding, a sense of humor always comes up when pro’s gather in a smoky back room to discuss advertising.
None of us know if it’s a self-selection process, or just an accident… but I can’t think of a top copywriter who doesn’t laugh easily and heartily (and at a wide range of funny subjects, from the profane to the juvenile).
My theory is that the top end of any creative gig is over-represented by naturally funny people. Practical intelligence (the kind that gets stuff done, not the kind that stares at its own navel) comes already equipped with a cutting sense of humor — it’s part of the default software of our minds, I think.
I mean, even the really depressed and suicidal guys who are highly creative (and I’ve known some) are achingly funny when you get to know them.
However, you should not despair if you feel you don’t have a “top end” sense of humor. I’m talking about only the top 1% of the best. There are plenty of very, very good writers who roll their eyes at the hot-shots in the corner, howling with laughter.
You can be dead-ass boring, and still do a great job. Most people are somewhere between the two extremes, and once you find your own groove, you’re fine.
I have nothing but anecdotal proof behind this, but my suspicion is that without a killer sense of humor, you aren’t equipped for the rare air at the tippy- top. It’s a stress releaser, a bonding tool, and a way to look at the world when things aren’t going so well.
Kind of like having nice, razor-sharp teeth as a predator. It’s one of the main tools, and trumps all kinds of other handicaps.
I don’t think you can “find” a sense of humor, though. You got what you got.
It’s not a big loss if you’re not a belly-grabber. There isn’t room at the top of any profession for everyone, anyway.
Gosh, that sounds arrogant, doesn’t it.
And maybe I’m wrong. But them’s my thoughts, anyway…
Side note: Halbert and I spent most of our years together laughing, even when things weren’t so rosy. At seminars, good-hearted and well-meaning folks would try to sneak up next to us to share in the fun… but were almost always horrified at WHAT we were laughing at. It was often juvenile stuff, or else so obscure and “inside” that no outsider could possibly fathom what was cracking us up so much.
Watch the movie M*A*S*H (not the dreary tv show). It’s centered on this very subject — the funny, irreverent dudes against the humorless bastards. It’s a partian movie — the funny guys are the heroes — but there are many people who watch it and think “How come those assholes are depicted as heroes, when they’re clearly savages… imagine, laughing at serious stuff…”
Go figure.
Last note: Truly advanced humor has little place in the final results of advertising. I’ve hung out with Frank Kern a few times, and he’s an evil-funny bastard… but he reins it in when he writes. Hard to believe, since his copy is so edgy, but it’s true. We both vow never to reveal what we really talk about in private, you know…
Stay frosty,
John Carlton
www.carltoncoaching.com
Sunday, 6:23pm
Reno, NV
The street’s become one big damn dirt-flavored slushie…
Howdy…
Hey — great job on the stories, guys (and gals).
I just grabbed a few, totally at random, for comment here:
Ian, one of the last to post, nailed it. As a dog lover, I laughed out loud about his short, vivid tale of the dog who didn’t know what to do with the squirrel — after a lifetime of chasing them, she’d never caught one before. And so it got away.
Weak segue into a product, but definitely the right idea. Nice work, Ian.
Karen, Dean, Jason — nice work. Especially Karen — vivid, funny, poignant finish.
Bill went long with his story about slacking his way into college while his poor brother struggled for good grades and failed… but it’s just damn good storytelling. Human interest, compelling narrative, an opening wide enough to begin a truly killer sales pitch. Kudos.
There were two very short posts, by Kris and Udo, that illustrate the lesson. I suggest everyone dig in and read them.
Kris relayed the old “3 men went out, only 2 came back” saw. I appreciate the thinking behind it, but it’s not a story. An opening line for a story, perhaps…but it’s totally unmoored, with no plot elements, no punch line, no action.
This is best illustrated by Udo’s submission about the 300 Trojans stopping 200,000 at Thermopylae (subject of the recent movie based on Frank Miller’s graphic novel), coupled with the modern idea of a single “Trojan” now stopping half a million. I’ll let you, the reader, fill in the details… but I “got” it immediately. Maybe a little too cute, but good — set up, plot elements, coy twist, punch line.
Two extremely sparse submissions, both trying for pithy delivery. One connected, the other fell into the trap of not completing the process of set-up/action/punch-line.
This is not a knock on you, Kris. Thousands of people read this blog, and you had the guts to sit down and give the task a whirl. You are already ahead of everyone else who didn’t lock into “think hard” mode… and your next effort (if you take the lesson to heart) will put you even further ahead.
This is how writers get good.
I’ve been studying writing since I was a kid (when I tried to figure out how Bradbury and Asimov were able to suck me into their novellas). And, as an adult, I’ve dug deep into the “art”, shelling out big bucks to attend fancy-ass writer’s workshops in various states (like the famous annual events in Swannee, TN, and Squaw Valley, CA).
And I discovered two very important things:
1) Writer’s write. It’s that simple.
Almost every accomplished writer I have ever met started out struggling…. and even after becoming successful, continued to drive to get even better.
Not a single one was “born” into it. Their early stories were garbled garbage… but they kept after it, learning the craft by making mistakes, and then absorbing the lesson.
2) Most of the people running around those workshops were not writers… nor did they ever intend to become one.
No. They shelled out the thousands and thousands of bucks required to attend these week-long workshops… because they wanted to have already written something, and enjoy the imagined self-respect and glory of “being” a writer.
The one thing they had in common: They seldom actually sat down and wrote.
They complained of “writer’s block” (which doesn’t exist), they knew how to talk a good game, they even set up meetings with publishers.
But since the only way to get a book written is to… um, excuse me if I shock you here… is to WRITE IT, these pathetic wannabe’s were just shit outa luck in their desire to be seen as writers.
They are the worst kind of poseur. (Unfortunately, the workshops can’t survive without them. The “real” writers — a definite, tiny minority — need the wannabe’s to fund the events.) (Though, after attending five or six, I’ve concluded they’re mostly a waste of time. If you want to become a writer, write. And find successful writers to study. Oh, and take advantage of free blogs like this one.)
I’m relaying this tale specifically because many people who posted their stories here did something that a HUGE part of the population simply cannot bring themselves to do: Face the blank screen, and then write.
For every marketer out there writing his own copy — and learning from his mistakes and testing and inter-acting with guys like me — there are a hundred more who are frozen just by the thought of putting their fingers on a keyboard and engaging their brains.
The invention of email — which wasn’t all that long ago — has been a godsend for many people… simply because it forces you to grab a coherent thought, wiggle it down through your body from brain to fingers, and type it out.
I’m sure you’ve experienced this same situation: My father (who, at 86, may be one of the oldest dudes alive who knows how to surf online), at first could barely peck out a single sentence in an email. He was so terse, it was hardly communication at all.
Quickly, however, by repetition, he got the hang of it. And now pens emails easily and unself-consciously.
He got better… by doing it.
Believe it or not… the essentials of killer storytelling require nothing more than the few specifics I handed out in the past few blog posts… combined with your continued effort to see the world around you, and translate it into a pithy, concise, well-told tale that meets the simple requirements of set-up/action/punch line.
If you’re doing it badly now, you soon won’t be. Just keep after it.
Now…
Here’s another challenge for y’all.
It ties in neatly with the idea of keeping after it.
Harken: Most folks know the “science” behind forming a habit.
I can’t quote you the research, but the standard anecdote is that it takes 21 days to create a habit… whether it’s a good habit, or a bad one.
You gotta get up every day, for three weeks in a row, uninterrupted… and do your thing in a proscribed way that eventually gets set into muscle memory and into your brain.
The bad habits are easy.
The good ones… not so much.
My trainer, Bryan, reminded of how important it is to focus on creating good habits last week. He’s forcing all his clients — he’s a sadist, the man is — to think about a good habit they want to cultivate… and he’s not shutting up about it once you make the committment.
This is great stuff.
Think how quickly your life could change if you had a slave standing behind you at your desk… and every time you did whatever it is you’re trying to change (like slouching in your chair, or obsessively checking email, or downloading porn) the slave would whack you upside the head until you stopped.
Well, what Bryan’s doing is pretty close. I see him three times a week for punishment (okay, for a workout)… and he is relentless about getting into my face about my goals.
Heck — I PAY him to do this to me.
I highly recommend it.
But even if you’re on your own right now… the whole 21-day challenge thing is worthwhile.
Just pick a single good habit you want to instill. And use the next 3 weeks as your “forge” to make it stick.
At the recent Altitude “check up” event, there were dozens of rich marketers who talked about this very thing — changing your life in increments, habit by habit. (The necessity for “being a good animal” ranks up there with “earn another million bucks” for the most successful guys in the game. Often enough, it ranks even higher.)
What could you accomplish in your life by, say… getting up an hour earlier every day?
Or forming a morning ritual that allows you to efficiently meet the day pumped full of good nutrients, clean, alert and already exercised?
Or setting up a single day each week to take the phone off the hook, and just write all day long without interruption?
Or, heck, even the old standby’s: Is it time to quit smoking? Time to get serious about mentoring your kids? Time to start reading a novel every month?
As humans, we are all woefully inept at creating our “movies” in any perfect way. I would never strive for perfection, anyway — sounds boring to me.
Still, there are ways I want to live that I cannot access until I create better habits. Incremental changes, made permanent, can quickly form the foundation for amazing transformation.
I’ll tell you what my little 21-day challenge is. I’m addicted to carbohydrates — bread, cereal, chips, all that good stuff. And so, despite being in excellent over-all shape and health (cuz, you know, I work out)… my cholesterol isn’t cooperating.
So I’m simply jettisoning all the crap from my diet. (The beer stays, though. I’m not a monk.)
It’s not tough. I’ve done it before. In fact, last year I got into the habit of NOT eating so many carbs… but over the holidays, I dedicated myself to perversely destroying that habit.
Such is life. Constant vigilance is required.
However, without an actual deadline, it might take me years to even attempt to readjust my diet. (I swear, I bought a big damn bag of tortilla chips in a trance last week. I told myself “Don’t do it, man” as I watched my hand reach out and toss the bag into the grocery cart. Carbs are great zombie fuel.)
So here I am, a week into it. And already thinking twice every time I walk into the kitchen. And just waving hello to the Cheeto’s at the deli when I grab a sandwich, and not buying them.
Because I set a simple, very reachable goal: Just do it for 21 days, and see what happens.
It’s cheating, of course. I know full well that, after 21 days, I will have replaced the old habits with a new one: Eating healthy.
So…
Wanna come along?
Pick a goal. For the next 21 days, engage in your chosen new behavior. Just 3 short weeks.
A cakewalk. (Unless it’s cake you’re trying to get away from.)
If you’ve done this before, then you know how powerful it is. If you’ve never done it, you’re in for a treat.
Start simple, if you like. Take a long walk every day. Start brushing your teeth more effectively. Meditate for twenty minutes in the afternoon. Be nice to your mate, no matter how aggravating they are to you.
Or… keep a journal, and every evening, write down a short story of what you observed during your day. Take ten minutes, and tell yourself a little tale.
Heck… post your new goal here in the comments section, if you like. It’ll be there for God and everybody to see… and that will help you breeze through the 3 weeks.
Twenty-one days is not an eternity (unless you’re quitting smoking, which is one of those big damn deal goals) (which you need to get to at some point).
It goes quick. (Think back to your New Year’s Even celebrating. That was FOUR weeks ago. A mere blink.)
And, at the end of your 21 days, you’ll have your new good habit.
C’mon, let us know what you’re eager to instill. We all need good ideas for the next challenge, you know. And I’ll remind you, each time I blog, about it. I’ll keep you aprised of my progress, and you can post yours.
This could be the year for you. The big breakthrough year, where it all comes together.
And it can start with just a little focus and dedication to change…
Don’t be a putz. Let’s change things around…
Stay frosty,
John Carlton
P.S. Speaking of turning things around, the Simple Writing System has changed the life of thousands of marketers, business owners and copywriters and has helped launch countless careers.
Could it do the same for you?
It wouldn’t hurt to check things out now, would it?
Thursday, 5:34pm
Reno, NV
Okay, I’m tired of snow now…
Howdy…
Let’s take a deep dive into storytelling, what d’ya say?
And, if you’re still up for it, let’s do another exercise to get our chops honed to dangerous “street-wise salesmanship” levels.
If your final goal is to sell stuff, then you need to be able to bring your story home to a reader.
And before anyone starts huffing about how “crass” that sounds, let’s get straight on something right here:
Most of the stories in our modern culture are about selling.
Movies sell stars, and sell themselves.
Television stories are just attention place-holders for commercials. (You think actors get the big bucks because they’re “good”? No way. It’s because they connect with a paying audience. Bob Hope was one of the richest actors to hit the stage, and he never even tried to “really” act — he just goofed his way through a stunningly-lucrative career. But people identified with him, and he cashed in on that identity.)
If you think stories should be “pure”, then move away from society.
Even your weird Uncle Whazoo has an agenda with most of his stories.
He wants attention, he wants to shock and entertain, or maybe he just feels family gatherings would kill the young-un’s with boredom if he didn’t retell the adventure behind his filthy hula dancer tatoo.
So, just to refresh: If you offer something that your prospect needs or wants… then shame on you if you don’t use every tactic available to get your sales message across so the poor guy can justify buying it.
And stories are a killer way to set that situation up.
Okay?
Okay.
So… back to the lesson.
Limiting your stories to just 3 lines will help you become more concise.
Even the most rollicking tale can put people to sleep if it’s too long, and has too many tangents.
And most people are not natural storytellers… so they ramble off on quirky paths, repeating themselves, unable to clearly explain plots, and bombarding the listener with irrelevant bullshit.
↓ Like this: ↓
“Did I tell you about the UFO that attacked us? No? It was Tuesday last week… no, wait, it was Wednesday. Yeah, it must have been Wednesday, because I was headed to IHOP to meet Suzy for waffles — you know they have specials every Wednesday, don’t you…”
↑ That there is how people get strangled.↑
In my long experience trying to force people to tell better stories, the first task is nearly always trimming the excess verbiage and fluff.
The outline to follow is:
- Set up (the tease of the payoff to come)
- Plot elements… action (the fulfillment of the tease)…
- The moral. Which doesn’t have to actually be “moral” in any righteous sense — it’s just the punch line of the story.
You have a reason to tell your story. It could vary from pure entertainment, to pure desire to sell lots of stuff.
When you’re done, you want your listener or reader to FEEL something.
- Happiness (aww, the puppy got rescued)…
- Alarm (my God, I’m gonna keep a loaded gun by my bedside from here on out)…
- Astonishment (my neighbors are doing what at night?)…
- Or, yes, even greed (hey! I want that kind of deal, too!)
To be more biological about it… the process can also be described like this: Foreplay… climax… resolution.
Stories, like sex, benefit from a focus on the goal. The less extraneous interruption, the better.
In other words: It’s not about you at all, even if you’re the star of the story.
Rollicking stories are always about your reader.
Do you really want to master the ability to tell stories that sell? It’s way more fun than writing about features all day, and more profitable. That’s why I devoted an entire lesson to the topic in the Simple Writing System. Get all the details right here.
Ideally, your reader will “see” himself in your story. Or feel like he’s temporarily “in” the world you create with your words.
Have you ever read a story to a kid? Once they get the taste for it, just saying “Once upon a time…” will glaze their eyes over, as they eagerly prepare themselves to be transported to a world far different than their own.
(Side rant: I think it’s a friggin’ travesty that kids today are being shielded from the violence and chaotic messages of such wild tales as the Brothers Grimm laid out. I had zero idea what life was like in the Middle Ages, but I readily suspended all disbelief because I craved the story so badly. If everyone was wearing lederhosen and eating gruel — whatever that was — then fine. Just make sure the wicked witch or headless horseman scared the bejesus out of me.) (And I grew up fine. The real world, and all the people in it, is not some Kumbaya fantasy… and the often morbid lessons of classic children’s tales are damn good preparation for living amonst the deceit, the unfairness, the unpredictability, and the raw unbridled terror of reality. So there.)
This concept of “transporting” is critical, by the way.
You’re driving the story, and it’s your responsibility to keep it on the road. Your reader will abandon you at the first hint you don’t know where we’re going… and he’ll despise you for getting his hopes up for a good tale, if you then dash them with a feeble punch line.
That’s why striving for pithy, concise stories is so important for writers. Set up… action… punch line.
This 3-line classic is one of the best:
“I’ve been poor. And I’ve been rich. Rich is better.”
No need for any other detail. In this example, the words “rich” and “poor” are Power Words.
They carry their own payload of emotional backstory with them, because in this context nearly everyone will have a feeling about the concept of being rich, and a feeling (probably very personal and visceral) about being poor.
No one needs a long-winded rant about HOW poor you were, or HOW rich you were.
Concise, memorable stories pack a punch.
Even better, there is a segue into the life of the reader in that 3-line beauty. “Rich is better” may seem like an obvious statement, but coupled with the set-up lines, it delivers a strong message that smacks of truth.
Now, the classical “rags to riches” sales pitch requires more detail, of course. But not so much that you lose the flow of a quick story, told with feeling, ripe with implications for the reader.
However, good ad copy doesn’t rest on implications.
It’s got to move quickly to specifics.
So here’s a simple tactic from my Bag of Tricks that has helped me bring many a story “home” to readers:
- First, you tell your story, and you aim for the kind of breathless prose that makes your prospect afraid to exhale, for fear of missing a delicious detail.
- Then, you tidy it up. Deliver the punch line, or the moral, or just the ending. Don’t try any clever transitions back into your sales pitch.
Instead, you merely say:
“And here’s what that means for YOU…”
When reading fables to kids, any such attempt to explain the moral would ruin the transcendant pleasure of listening to stories. Ideally, you’d want the end of the story to rattle around in their heads, while they mulled over the ethical implications and came up with their own (right) conclusion. (Kids hate it when adults wag fingers and try to force lessons on them.)
But when writing to adults, you can’t assume anything.
Adults are so numb to incoming data, they will suck up even a great story, absorb it, and move on to the next volley of arriving stimuli without coming to any conclusion whatsoever.
So, as the copywriter, it’s your job to complete the thought.
Not in any condescending way, of course. You just continue the thread, going deeper into your sales message.
“I’ve been poor. And I’ve been rich. Rich is better. And here’s what that means for you:”
“You can continue on with your life believing that ‘money can’t buy happiness’ if that makes you feel better… but I’m here to tell you that having a pile of extra cash is actually a fabulous feeling… and your life will get better almost immediately. Plus, since I’ve already done the hard work of going from clean broke to filthy rich, I know all the shortcuts… and I’ll share them with you…“
Et cetera.
Ready for your assignment?
Tell a short, 3-line story (using the concept of set up, plot, action and punch line)… and then write a one or two line segue bringing your story home to your reader.
You’re allowed to be non-sensical for this exercise. In other words, you don’t actually have to be selling anything. You can make it all up.
Just think — really, really hard — about how the moral or punch line of your story MIGHT lead to a sales message.
(Another side rant: If you read all the stories in the comments section of my previous posts, you probably noticed the frequency of “we met, we kissed, something went wrong” stories in the submission pile. That’s great — to get good at story telling, you first want to practice (a LOT) with telling tales that have emotional impact or meaning to you. Everyone remembers their first legitimate kiss. (Those sloppy pecks from Auntie Mame don’t count./End rant)
Most people’s stories tend to be pretty typical, but if they’re told right, they can still be funny, or shocking, or even corny in a way that gets the reader nodding in agreement.
And while it may not seem obvious that you could possibly sell anything, after sharing the humorous story of your first fumbling efforts at romance in junior high… just reflect on all the commercials and ads you’ve seen that blatantly couple sex and product.
Heck, they sell laundry detergent with sex.
And while Warren Buffett might put you to sleep with his theories on compound interest, a real entrepreneur would explain the exact same concept from the deck of his yacht, surrounded by bikini-clad beauties. And get more attention, too.
Be concise, and bring it home to the reader.
You cannot “fail” at this exercise, because you’re just warming up your chops.
And, as a number of commenters noted, these are MEGA-important exercises if you want to get good. You COULD have been honing your storytelling chops all along, every day of your life. But you didn’t, did you.
Because no one challenged you to do it.
So, here is an excuse to engage that scary brain of yours, and force it to work for you, for once.
You don’t learn to ride without hopping into the saddle. And it’s okay to fall off, as long as you climb back on.
Stay frosty…
John Carlton
P.S. Stories sell. It’s just that simple… That’s why honing your storytelling chops can change the game for anyone who is an entrepreneur or copywriter…
You’ll find a lot more about storytelling and other pro copywriting tactics here…
Monday, 4:41pm
Reno, NV
Overcast, cold and yet oh, so toasty here in my office…
Howdy…
Just a quick note here about how the stories are going.
Mostly, I’m very impressed. Those of you who kept to the 3 lines really worked at it, and that’s the idea. You learn to be concise, to stay on target, and still deliver a good story.
For those who had to go over 3 lines: Some very nice stories… but they can all be trimmed to 3 lines. Trust me on this.
I had an idea of how to help: Check out “haiku” on Wikipedia. It’s the Japanese poetry form that is strictly limited to 3 lines of 5, 7, and 5 syllables each. No more, no less. Forced to adhere to such limititations, the resulting Zen poetry is crushingly beautiful. In the West, we tend to go more for story lines (rather than koan-type mysticism)… but it’s still the 5/7/5 form.
The marketing equivalent: Adwords. You have strict character limits for each line (though you can do less, but never more). We’ve taken to calling it “Adwords haiku” because of that.
Few Westerners have been forced to “write inside the lines” like this before, and we tend to struggle with limits. But I’m telling you, it’s worth doing.
As you listen to great storytellers, notice how economical they are with words. They find just the exact right word, or short phrase, to nail the mood, direction and plot. This is “power words” in action.
You may scratch your head, at first, looking at haiku. But notice how long the entry is in Wikipedia… and know that it’s long because people care. And it’s good stuff.
You’re about to be enlightened in ways you won’t understand for a long time yet.
Side note #1: Kudo’s to Moffatt for his insight on the exercise. People who collect and tell stories lead better lives… and when they sell, they almost always do a better job of it. Stories are about the human experience, and at the end of the day, that’s what it’s all about — broadening and enjoying the experience you’re having, as a human.
Side note #2: Karen, is that YOU? In Kiwi land? (Of course, I know it is. No one else knows the piano disaster story.)
How are you? I tried to find you in the phone book during a short lay-over in NZ last year, but you weren’t listed. Damn. I’d love to catch up. The boys have my private email — just shoot Kevin a note. Hope all is well.
Great story, too. Hard to believe we survived the chaos of those times…
Side note #3: I hope everyone is reading all the stories. When you hang out with writers, you don’t really need Hollywood at all, you know. Even a relatively uneventful evening at the hotel bar with a snaggle of wordsmiths will put the entire acadamy awards to shame…
Side note #4: Dean, I recognized your KKK story. Made me laugh out loud. And would somebody translate Javier’s comment for me? I just wanna make sure it’s not dirty or anything…
Side note #5: Weird things happen when you collect stories, too. “John” in the comments told a nice one about some train tracks in his home town that disappeared… a nearly identical experience to one I had. I grew up ninety feet from a Sierra Pacific line, and the house rattled twice a day for fifty years. I both love and am comforted by the sounds of trains… but one day I went home to visit Pop and the tracks were gone. Just gone. Big weedy path where they once proudly laid, like a scar running through my old stomping grounds. Whew. So much of the world that surrounded me as I grew up is now alive only in memory and photos, always at risk to wash away like tears in rain…
Stay frosty,
John
www.carltoncoaching.com
Sunday, 6:35pm
Reno, NV
Crispy clear evening, with a canopy of stars twinkling like lighters during a Neil Young encore…
Howdy,
I’m gonna ask you to write a little mini-script here in a minute. For your “inner” home movie.
You did know your life is a movie, right?
Okay, maybe you’re no DiCaprio or Clooney or Scarlett… or even Giametti… but you’re the star of your own show just the same.
There’s a script, which you have enormous sway with. You don’t like the way things are going, do a rewrite.
There’s direction, and even lighting. You want something flashy or big to happen… well, you can arrange it. Whatever you want, as long as you’ve got the cojones to get after it. (No, you’re not guaranteed to get what you want… but if that’s how you want your movie to go, you can at least call for it in your script. Run for prez, dude, if that floats your boat. Heck, if the current crop thinks they’re worthy, then most of the rest of us are, too.)
Lighting, by the way, plays a bigger role in your life than you might realize. Most of us live under ridiculously harsh wattage, both at work and at home… and it’s like blasting angry music into your head all the time. It can change the way you see yourself, and act in the world. Heck — bright lights are used as “extreme interrogation” methods by the CIA. So is Barry Manilow music, as well as thrash metal. Because relentless use of it hurts.
As a side note: Experiment with the subtle elements of your life. Get some indirect lighting for your office, use non-white bulbs or even candles… you don’t have to go for any kind of gaudy bordello-style mood, but just try lighting your stage differently for a little while. See how it affects the way you do things.
Same with music — get out of your rut, for sure, but also stretch a bit. My iPod is crammed with rock and roll, but also lots of classical and acid jazz and country and folk and alternative stuff. And I carefully plan out hour-long playlists that create a mood, and keep it going.
When you live like you’re a star, you pay attention to these kinds of details.
The benefits: Time slows down… routines become exercises in pleasurable rites rather than zombie habits… and your awareness level kicks up a notch.
All are excellent tools for living well… and being a better marketer.
Especially the “awareness” part.
Have you ever wondered where the knack for finding stories and hooks — the main ingredient of any great copywriter’s bag of tricks — comes from?
It’s a direct result of being hyper-aware. Of living life like the greatest movie ever filmed.
Think about your life.
No, seriously. Think about it.
Most people have trouble “seeing” themselves in the world at all. Without a mirror, they’re not even sure they exist. Their daily experiences are like watching a “monkey cam” — the filmed result of attaching a camera to the back of a chimp and letting him wander off.
It’s not a smooth, thought-out, coherent narrative. Instead, it’s jerky, chaotic, and (unless there are “happy accidents”) mostly boring.
There. I’ve said it.
Most people lead boring lives.
And do you know why?
It’s because they refuse to believe they have any control over the script, plot, or action of their life. And, if you don’t believe you do, then you don’t. That’s the way it works, most of the time.
I’m not talking about adopting a selfish attitude of “it’s all about me”. No way. Most of the really savvy people you know — the ones who have their personal and biz lives put together well — are not selfish weasels. And yet, they live like they’re the center of the action, because they are.
Doesn’t have to be a “movie” metaphor, either. Think of yourself as the protaganist in a great novel, or the hero of the best video game ever created. (Don’t be that guy who dresses like a Wookie, though. When you finally kick your life into high gear, it will be part action, part comedy, part drama, part tragedy, and yes, part fantasy… but try to think in well-rounded terms. It’s a mistake to get hung up on any one thing, because it’s so limiting. Expand. Live large.)
Whatever works for you, works. It may take you a little time to get clear on what kind of script you really want — most novice goal-seekers screw it up the first few times (like thinking they really, really, really want something… and then being disappointed when they get it).
But you’ll get the hang of it pretty quickly, if you just realize this gift of consciousness you’ve been given. The natural tendency of any human being who has attained some measure of creature comfort, is to sleep-walk through the rest of his days.
And that’s not living. That’s zombie city.
Living your life like a movie means that you are constantly aware of the ROLE you play. It can change, or mutate, or solidify… but all of that can be your choice. Part of the plot twist, if you want.
You can never control EVERYTHING, of course. No one’s ever said you can. Every second of your existence is fraught with unpredictable events, from earthquakes and heart attacks to stalkers and food poisoning. Or an unexpected call from the ex. Or a hacker discovering your bank password.
Nevertheless, there remains a HUGE portion of your moment-to-moment life that you CAN control. If you choose.
And getting into the swing of writing your own script as much as you can, will redirect your life in ways that please you. You become the captain of your ship.
The OTHER advantage of living this way… is that the STORIES of your life become more vivid.
And the best copywriters and marketers and salesmen in the universe… are all great storytellers. Without exception.
Again, think about your life.
Consider how it has progressed in actual chapters, or acts. Maybe it’s as straightforward as childhood, adulthood, starting a biz, getting married. Or maybe it’s more nuanced, in peculiar ways that make sense to you but may sound fuzzy to outsiders. (I know guys who have sectioned thier past under the heading of whichever female was in their life at the time: Jo (junior high), Nancy (freshman year), Roberta (summer he got his license), Yolanda (first part-time job),etc. They will fry your ear with great stories, too.)
The more precise you can be, the better your stories will become. And the better your OWN parcel of stories are, the better you can spot — and use — stories from the world around you when you’re writing to influence and persuade.
I was really lucky to grow up in a family of storytellers. And since I was the youngest by 8 years, I learned quickly to be pithy and interesting… or to lose the floor (because few people have the patience for meandering stories with no punch line, especially from kids).
My auto-biography is already written, you know. In my head. It’s been a work in progress since the day I first realized I was alive… and I remember vivid, interesting stories from every minor period of my life.
Stories aid memory, and retention, you know. Every ancient culture on earth was based on stories until writing came along. They HAD to be short, fascinating and memorable, too… because any story not retained, was lost forever.
Even if this “consider the movie of your life” concept is new to you… you should be able to look back and see how certain periods of your life evolved. You don’t have to get it all organized right away… take your time. Focus on some pleasant period, and re-gather the stories from that period into a mental file cabinet.
I also urge you to write these stories down. In short, well-thought-out vinettes that pass the “won’t bore your buddies” test.
In other words… leave out the dull parts. You can write up the longer version — the “director’s cut” that only you will truly appreciate — for personal indulgence… but while you’re honing your storytelling chops for the outside world, focus on short, crisp, rollicking tales that get to the point quickly.
The best stories are concise little mini-movies. With a beginning, a middle, and an end. Or, like a good joke, with a premise, a set-up, and a punch line.
They can be serious, or funny, or rueful, or just “hmmm” inducing.
But they must be complete stories. Remember Suzy, your first real relationship? Sure, it went on for a long time, and any day-to-day explanation would put even someone tweaked on speed to sleep.
So start editing, with an audience in mind. For example, to strut your credentials for understanding young love: “Suzy, the first love of my life. Teenagers, convinced we would live forever, and no one had ever felt a love so strong before. We spent most of our time in the back seat, or in secluded spots, fumbling with biological imperatives and hormone dumps. Torrid affair. Shocking heartache when her biology shifted away from me. Sad, sad boy, convinced no one had ever felt such pain before…”
Or, something more mundane: “Interviewed for my first real job right out of college. Cinched up my tie, answered every jack-ass question seriously, shook hands like a candidate. Got the job. Hated every second of my life for six months, never quite caught my breath, and then got fired. Joy, again.”
Or, here’s a tidbit from my own biography: “We were vandals as kids, mostly ineffective and innocent, but occasionally stunning models of terrorism. Asked an engineer how many railroad ties his cow-catcher could handle… and the next day, put all those plus one on the tracks. Derailed the train, and our genuine horror of success was deepened by the realization we better watch our asses if we were gonna engage with the adult world like that.”
Three sentences. Yeah, long ones, but three coherent, correct sentences. A complete story, with entry point, action, and quasi-moral ending.
Consider how looooooooooooong I could have dragged that tale out, and been absolutely justified in doing so. Because, hey, the thing took place over a couple of days, and there are details of our gang and the neighborhood and the derailment that are fascinating.
Just friggin’ fascinating.
But longer stories should only be told if you’re invited to tell them. As in, writing your thousand-page biography, and selling it. Anyone buys, it’s a tacit agreement to put up with every long-winded tale you’ve got up your sleeve.
Watch a bad movie tonight. Not a good one, or even a cult sleazoid one, appreciated for being bad.
No, watch a dull, plodding, no-thumbs-up disaster. You’ll discover that it has nothing to do the stars in the cast, the money in the budget, the director, the studio, or even the script. (People have screwed up Shakespeare, you know.)
Watch it critically. Consider WHY it’s boring you. And think of ways it could speed up the pace, nudge your attention, be better. The culprit will almost always be the storytelling.
Now, it’s your turn.
Leave a 3-sentence story from your life in the comments section. Don’t be shy — we’re all trying new stuff this year (or should be). Trashing old limitations, stretching new boundaries, waking up and engaging the world on new terms.
I promise to read every one. I’ll even toss in a few comments myself, when warranted.
This is a SAFE forum, you know. We’re all friends, or at least cohorts in the quest for better living and finer biz results.
Honing your storytelling chops requires releasing your shy restrictions, and just doing it. Get comfy with the concept, and get better with the details each time you try again.
I won’t mock anyone, and I’ll read every submission. Some of you are already damn good, others can use a lot of work… but we ALL need a kick in the butt once in a while to continue getting better at storytelling.
C’mon. Three lines. That forces you to be concise, to consider every single word carefully, and to crunch large chaotic experiences into tidy little narratives with a point.
I’m not looking for funny. Not looking for tears. Not looking for anything profound.
Just a story.
For some writers, this will be a true test, because you aren’t used to pushing yourself like this. However, the best already do.
Stay frosty,
John Carlton
www.carltoncoaching.com
