The RANT - John Carlton's Official Blog

The Goal Of Goals

Thursday, 8:37pm
Reno, NV
Coyotes in the distance, making sweet music to the snowfall…

Howdy,

How’re you doing with your 21-day habit change challenge?

I almost screwed up last night. Walked by the kitchen around midnight, and I swear the last box of crackers in there was calling my name.

Bastard carbohydrates.

First sign you’re gonna win is when you just shrug, acknowledge that giving in would be glorious and tasty and, you know, worth it in a way… and then don’t give in.

It’s not even a sign of strength, really. It’s just adult management of the ancient, murky, often self-destructive parts of your mind. The ape-brain wants, gimme, gimme, gimme. Ape-brain must have.

Ape-brain not happy when denied.

And yet the sky doesn’t cave in when you shoo the beast back into the shadows.

Day by day, your old habit goes from struggle, to weak impulse, to vanquished behavior pattern. It’s a grind… but results are incremental.

Heck, I’ve got to go through SuperBowl weekend without eating chips and dip.

You gotta feel for me, dude.

Still, the little victories mount quickly. Several years ago, in antipation of doing a full weekend seminar (where I would be on stage, on my feet, needing to be super-sharp and on the ball the entire time), I hired a trainer and started working out twice a week.

I loathe working out. I’d rather play tennis, or pick-up round-ball, or raquetball, or do anything other than schlump my ass back into the gym… but those sports, while exhausting, will not give you a thorough workout.

I knew I needed the whole shebang… and I knew from past experience that hiring a trainer was the best way to “trick” myself into following through.

See, you can join a gym, figure out a routine, and even schedule workouts for yourself, and not need a trainer. Read up on specific workout strategies, write out plans, do it all on your own.

But I knew I needed that extra condition — the very real tactic of having to pay the trainer for his time whether I showed up or not.

That works for me. Just knowing I’m screwing up, by not working out during my appointed hour… and knowing that someone else is also privy to my shame… is enough to kick my butt into gear.

I hate it.

But I go.

And I’ve been going for around four years now. Same trainer, too. I see him more than I see most of my friends, and it’s a relatively pleasant way to suffer twice a week.

It’s a habit. When I travel, and miss more than a couple of workouts, I get uncomfortable… and I like that. I’m more uncomfortable NOT working out, than going through the hassle of actually working out.

I’m in that groove where I crave the burn. Nice.

It’s a drag getting in shape, especially after a few years of slacking. It hurts, it’s annoying, and I don’t wanna have to do it. Been there, done that.

But once you’re there, it’s easy to see the benefits. Obvious health, energy and well-being advantages up the yin-yang, in fact.

Last time I was out-of-shape, I had chronic back pain, I strained muscles easily, and I had the energy level of a wounded slug.

Still, I have to gear up to attack each workout, week after week. I resent the time it takes to get to the gym, I resent having to change clothes, I resent gasping for air during aerobic training… I’m just a resentful pig all the way around.

But it’s a habit now. I don’t have to rearrange my day to workout — the scheduled workouts are already there, built-in, week after week. I plan biz stuff around them, and it’s EASY. Once you’re in the habit, and you make it a priority.

And that small victory — just showing up for my workouts regularly and grunting through them without thought of quitting — gives me a foundation to build other victories.

There’s an old standard goal I used to put on my weekly list I called “The Nasty Bit”. My task was — every time I sat at my desk to start my workday — to choose the ONE thing I really, really, really did NOT want to do… and then do that first.

Usually, it was a phone call fraught with dread. Or reading some long, dull report for a client. Or finalizing the death knell for a relationship.

Neurosis, basically, is the built-up mire of ignored tasks. If you have a problem in life, then you have a task: Face that problem, and resolve it (even if resolution simply means making your peace with it).

You do that, you get to move on. There will be new problems, new tasks, and more down the line when you plow through those. But you will be moving… and gaining strength as you roll.

If you don’t engage the task laid out for you… then the problem festers, and the lack of resolution creates an anchor around your soul.

You stop moving. Instead of engaging life’s new problems, you are stuck in neutral, unable to leave the rut that gets deeper each day you ignore your duty.

And it IS a duty. You have the option of crawling into a rut and going to sleep for the rest of your days, just like the zombie hordes that stumble around you. It’s a tempting decision, because it’s “easy” (if you can live with the self-loathing shame) (which an alarming number of people seem content to do).

So here’s the bottom line: Attaining happiness isn’t easy.

It’s a task, just like potty training. Do it, move on, engage life fully. Don’t do it, and… well, you get the picture.

What I’m saying is that the goal of goal setting… is to get good at attaining goals. Not just having them… but attaining them. Mastering difficult tasks, embracing the joy of victory… and then asking for more.

The small victory of attaining your goal — of either establishing a new, “good” habit, or ditching a “bad” one — is very much like that first step on a fresh path that leads to exciting places.

So… how’re you doing with your 21-challenge?

Stay frosty,

John Carlton
www.carltoncoaching.com

Thursday, January 31, 2008

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Story Mop-Up Duty… and Another Challenge

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
www.carltoncoaching.com

Sunday, January 27, 2008

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Bring Your Badass Story Home To Your Reader

Thursday, 5:34pm
Reno, NV
Okay, I’m tired of snow now…

Howdy…

Let’s go deeper 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.

But first… let’s do some triage on the previous posts.

I read every single comment that came in. And mostly, I was astonished at the quality of the stories told. It seems a lot of folks got fired up over both the 3-line limitation, plus the succinct efficiency of haiku.

If there was any glaring single fault in the group, it was the lack of a clear punch line. Many of the stories sort of “floated”, without moorings. And while meaningful to the writer, the tales remained mysteries to the reader.

So, there is a little more to be learned… especially when your final goal of good storytelling is to use it for selling stuff.

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 just a killer way to set that situation up.

Okay?

Okay.

So… back to the lessons.

The idea behind limiting your stories to just 3 lines is an effort to 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. “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…”

This 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)… and 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… which 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.

It’s about your reader.

Ideally, he 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.)

The concept of “transporting” is critical. 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.

And the 3-line tactic is classic. 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… carrying 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. Any long-winded rant about HOW poor you were, or HOW rich you were, is excessive.

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 you’re 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 condesending 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. 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.

So, if you’re up for it… here’s the next 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.

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.) 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.

Again, I’ll read every submitted story, and comment as needed.

Stay frosty…

John Carlton
www.carltoncoaching.com

Thursday, January 24, 2008

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