If you’ve read “Groundswell,” you know Charlene Li is one of social media’s smartest and most interesting writers. On Wednesday, she was at Book Expo America promoting “Open Leadership” — her new book that’s already hit #1 on Amazon in the category of “Leadership.”
I asked Charlene for her best blogging tip. As soon as she gave me one, she instantly thought of a second tip, equally as important. Here are both:
Yesterday, at Book Expo America in Manhattan, I met up with my client and friend, David Meerman Scott. David was there to sign galleys of his new book, “Real-Time Marketing & PR,” which hits bookstores this November.
I asked David for his best blogging tip, and this is what he said:
A consultant named Tim was telling me about the field he worked in. He, in fact, wanted to write a book about it. Tim admitted, though, that he was intimidated by a famed guru who has spent years speaking and writing in that same field as he.
What, Tim wondered, could he possibly say that hadn’t already been said by the guru?
I’ve heard that lament before. What it comes down to is this:
Tim was confusing the guru’s contribution to the field with the totality of that field. He was looking at the guru’s opinions, excellent though they might be, as the only ones possible. It was as if the guru’s smarts, charisma, and accomplishments were blinding him to all the alternate ways of approaching the subject.
“Let the work of this guru inspire you.” I said. “Be grateful that such a vivid thinker has shared so much. Celebrate him and parade his work to others. But don’t let the strength of his voice stop you from using your voice.”
Each of us has something distinctive and interesting to contribute if we give ourselves the freedom to do so. We have experiences, stories, and ideas that can add texture to a subject, or take it in new directions.
At times, though, we must free ourselves from the magnetic pull that we’ve let others have on our thinking.
One way of giving yourself distance is by studying the subject you want to write about more comprehensively. You may, in fact, be unduly influenced by a guru’s work, because you’re focused too narrowly on their thinking to the exclusion of others.
Another way of giving yourself distance is by examining your career, not at first for abstract ideas, but for concrete success stories. Once you’ve jotted down a few stories, study them and see if any insights appear organically. You may be sitting on an unusual approach or helpful anecdote, and you don’t even realize it. Let the facts lead you.
Remember, each of us can contribute. We have knowledge and perspective that could help others if only they knew about it. Don’t let others’ outstanding work blind you to the value of your own gifts and experiences.
One of the readers of the first edition of my book, “Accidental Genius,” is Allan Bacon. Allan told me the story of how he used exploratory writing to change the course of his life.
With a PhD in Physics, Allan was working as an R&D engineer for a defense contractor that built lasers which, in his words, “knocked things out of the sky.”
The contractor encouraged its employees to stay up to date on their learning and seek out advanced degrees. Allan decided to go for an MBA — figuring it would help him become a better manager of people and projects.
As part of his MBA application, Allan had to write a personal essay. He’d never written much about himself, but tried freewriting as a means of thinking about the jobs he most enjoyed. When he looked over what he’d written, he saw a pattern he’d never noticed before.
All his favorite previous jobs – including the work he did as a volunteer and as a representative for his college at career fairs — in one way or another involved selling.
Allan hadn’t thought of himself as someone who liked to sell. He had spent his career to that point in an academic culture that looked down on salespeople. In fact, if you had approached him before he did the writing and suggested Sales as a career for him, he’d have been offended. Why go into sales when you have a PhD in Physics? He always considered the field beneath him; it was something you went into when you didn’t have other skills to fall back on.
The exploratory writing woke him up, and exposed a perceptual block that kept him from doing something he loved. As Allan says: “We tell ourselves emotional stories about who we are. I was telling myself one. Making that perceptual shift from engineer to sales professional is probably the biggest shift I ever had to make.”
Since then, Allan’s career has taken off.
He began working for high-tech start-ups as that rare sales expert with a PhD who knows how to speak to and persuade engineers. He’s also an author, and is working on a book on how to use experiments to create a more fully realized life. The working title is “Start Something You: How to Discover, Develop, and Fund Your Own Version of the Good Life (Without Quitting Your Job).” It’s due out in the next few months.
Allan’s choice has been happy and lucrative, and was triggered by writing. Perhaps you’d like to try a similar writing experiment?
For the next week, take twenty minutes a day to explore your work life through writing. For each session, set a timer, write quickly (as Ray Bradbury says, “In quickness there is truth”), and don’t stop for any reason whatsoever.
Write about every job you’ve had – even those you normally think of as inconsequential. Talk to yourself on paper, or through your computer keyboard, about who you worked with, the tasks you accomplished, the things you enjoyed, and the things you hated. In particular, jot down any stories or images that come to mind.
At the end of a week, read over all your writing. Do you see any patterns? Can you make anything connect? Have you had any insights that might suggest a new way forward?
Tens of thousands of people read Jonathan Fields’ blog, “Awake @the Wheel,” each month. I asked Jonathan for his best tip on building a blog’s readership:
Want to see some examples of Jonathan’s own flagship content?
Go to his blog and scroll down until you see thumbnails of his two PDFs, “The Firefly Manifesto” and “The Truth About Book Marketing.” Download and study them, and pass them around to friends and colleagues.
Think, then, about following Jonathan’s sage advice. What pet concepts of yours might be turned into flagship content that gets passed around?
My client, Jill Maurer, has a business that’s a week old. It’s called Bukoomusic. Here’s the story behind how it started.
A couple of years ago, Jill and a friend were sipping wine in a restaurant, when they saw a young waiter they hadn’t seen for weeks. They asked where he’d been, and he said he’d been on tour with his band. A couple of the other waiters, in fact, were his band mates. During the upcoming year, the group had lined up over 200 gigs.
Jill was impressed. Here was a group that could write and perform their own songs, and arrange a lengthy tour. What puzzled her was why they still worked at the restaurant.
The waiter told her that without a record label backing the group, they couldn’t get enough exposure to break into the big time. They were knocking on record company doors, looking for representation, but still hadn’t caught a break.
Jill and her friend were back a few weeks later, when the waiter approached the table with good news. The group’s diligence had paid off, and they had secured a contract with a small label.
Jill again asked when he and his band mates would resign as waiters, so they could concentrate on playing music. The young man said they couldn’t ditch their jobs yet, since the deal they signed gave the label most of the rights to the music, as well as heavy creative control. They signed it because they didn’t think they had any options.
When Jill went home, she couldn’t stop thinking about what she’d heard. The idea that dedicated artists had to sign away the rights to their work and couldn’t make a living wage doing what they were born to do aggravated her.
What’s more, she thought about all the great music the listening public was missing out on, because the labels were acting as gatekeepers. Executives were deciding what constituted sellable music, and some of their decisions were likely based more on the artists’ looks and gimmicks than their sound.
That’s when Jill decided to start Bukoomusic. It would be a website that acted as a central location for all types of independent musicians: professionals, struggling artists, even novices who had never sung before an audience. Anyone who wanted to be on the site, could be on the site. (“Think ‘YouTube for audio,’ says Jill. “Anyone can put their work on YouTube regardless of its quality.”)
The musicians would upload their songs, and could either give them away to the public for nothing, or charge a nominal fee for each download.
Even better, these musicians would retain full rights to their work.
They also wouldn’t have to pay for uploading their music to the site, and would only pony up a percentage of the actual sales if the public bought a download of one of their songs or albums.
After months of development, Bukoomusic went live last week. Jill, an experienced entrepreneur who cofounded the pioneering software company, SlickEdit, decided to do a soft opening so she could work out any bugs.
As of this writing, seven independent artists have uploaded songs and albums to the site. Take a listen. And, if you have any musical talent yourself . . . .
Besides being a business consultant, I’m also a magician. I invent illusions, design magic shows, write instructional magic books, and position performers.
If you read Seth Godin’s recent post about Steve Cohen, “The Millionaires’ Magician,” you’ve seen my work in action. Steve has been my client and friend for a decade. I positioned him, and co-created his two Off-Broadway shows, “Chamber Magic” and “Miracles at Midnight.”
Steve and I have invented several tricks I think of as theatrical. I’d like to tell you about one.
Years ago, when “Chamber Magic” was getting off the ground, Steve gave me a call. He said a New York newspaper reporter had been in the audience, was impressed, and asked to meet Steve later in the week for an interview. If the interview went well, the newspaper would devote nearly a page to the story. Steve and I took this as a challenge. An article in a New York paper was worth thousands of dollars of publicity.
During a fast brainstorm, I hit upon an idea. We drafted an email and shot it off to the reporter. The body of the message read something like this:
“Steve Cohen here. Thank you for offering to interview me. Let’s meet tomorrow in Manhattan at noon at the National Arts Club. And, if you’re game, I’d like you to participate in an experiment.
“On your way here, keep a running tally of every red car you see.
“Don’t, however, write down or mention the final figure to anyone. It should remain a secret until we meet. Just keep it fixed in your mind.
“A few additional points:
“You told me you live in Brooklyn, which is six miles from where we’ll be meeting. You have a few routes you can travel. Perhaps you’ll take the Brooklyn Bridge. Or, the Manhattan Bridge. Or, the Williamsburg Bridge. You also have the choice of dozens of avenues and streets.
“What’s more, you have several transportation methods you can use. You can walk, cycle, rollerblade, drive, grab a cab, board a bus, ride a horse, take a helicopter, or mix and match. Each method will likely alter your route some. That’s fine. It’s your choice.
“Then, there are the cars. You decide what constitutes a ‘red car.’ It can be completely red or have just a red detail. It can be moving or parked. You can count red trucks and SUVs, too, or you can ignore them. Follow your impulse.
“Again, make sure you’re not making your counting obvious. No fingers or pads of paper. And, take precautions that you’re not being followed (check the foot traffic, the autos, and the air).
“See you tomorrow.”
The next day, Steve was waiting as the grinning reporter walked in and said: “I couldn’t sleep last night. I have a feeling you’re going to tell me how many red cars I’m thinking of.”
“Did anyone follow you?” asked Steve.
“No,” said the reporter.
“Did you see red cars?”
“I did.”
“Did you write down how many you saw, or share that figure with anyone?”
“No.”
“But you have the number safely in mind.”
“I’m thinking of the number, yes.”
“You’re not going to change it, will you? I mean, you’re a reporter and are sworn to the facts and the truth.”
“I promise I won’t change it.”
Steve picked up a business card, scribbled a figure on it with a pencil, and held the facedown card out to the reporter.
“How many red cars did you see?” asked Steve.
“61.”
When the reporter turned the card over and saw a penciled “61,” he punched and kicked the air, shouting, “Man! This almost makes me believe in real magic!”
Steve got his article.
Why did I tell this story? I told it because, well, it’s a damn good story. Its got an intriguing premise and action that unfolds on the streets of Brooklyn and New York. It’s also got a big city reporter who’s so affected by the experience that he lies awake in anticipation and nearly starts believing in miracles. What could be better?
Stories are what remains long after the show has been packed away. They’re evidence that miracles occurred.
When Steve and I come up with an illusion for him, we simplify it until we believe it’s easy for audiences to remember and talk about. If they do talk about it, great. If they don’t, we pull it from the show and start over. Everything we invent is based on the memories it provokes.
Doing tricks that lead to stories is forceful marketing. The audience acts as missionaries and carries word of the show with them.
If you dare to take the same approach in your business, you may see miracles happen there as well. Once you’ve completed a project and are heading home, ask yourself “What will remain? What will clients talk about? What will they be excited by? What won’t they be able to forget? What will they share?”
(This post is drawn from an article I wrote for “Genii,” a venerated magic magazine published by Richard Kaufman.)
In my last post, “Make Your Elevator Speech Distinctive,” I said I’ve become known as “the guy who helps his clients raise their fees by up to 2,000%.” That’s true. People refer to me as the 2,000% guy all the time.
It’s important to note, though, that my 2,000% “brand” or “promise” had to be invented. That is, I had to dig through my projects and study the facts, after which I discovered this result I’d been producing but hadn’t been advertising. If I hadn’t dug, the market wasn’t going to come up with that fee-raising benefit on its own.
You could call my 2,000% moniker a feat of intentional branding. I manufactured it, and pushed it out there through my materials, networking, workshops, and speeches.
At times, though, I’m not sure we have to work so hard coming up with a brand. Sometimes a brand finds us. Call it unintentional branding. I have a story about that kind of branding, too.
I wrote the first edition of my problem-solving book, “Accidental Genius,” ten years ago. At the time, I was 37 years old, and let me tell you: For the first 37 years of my life, no one ever called me a genius. Not once. Enthusiastic, yes. Creative, yes. Funny, yes. A genius? No.
When “Accidental Genius” was released, that changed. Suddenly, people were calling me a genius right and left. Since the book came out, I must have been called by that name five hundred times.
Understand, I’m not knocking it. Every time I’m called a genius, I’m grateful. But here’s the thing: In the ten years since that book came out, I’m no smarter than I was the previous 37. If anything, I’m not as bright as I once was.
The word, though, became associated with me through repetition. 25,000 copies of my book were sold with my name and the word genius on the cover. I gave speeches where I talked about ways of accessing your genius. I did dozens of interviews where I talked about how people could have “a genius moment.” The association was unintentional, but it stuck.
My questions to you, then are these:
When people ask what I do for a living, I can’t help but smile. I tell them the following: “Consultants and entrepreneurial companies hire me to help them increase their fees by up to 2,000%.”
I must have delivered that elevator speech a thousand times, and every time it’s gotten me that treasured response: “How do you do that?”
I didn’t always have a good speech. I used to talk about how I made people memorable or compelling or made them stand out. Now, there’s nothing wrong with saying those things. I still say them. But I was uncomfortable making claims without supplying facts to back them up. So I went hunting for the facts.
Using the freewriting technique I teach in “Accidental Genius,” I typed into my computer as fast as I could for a couple of hours about who my clients were, why they hired me, and how I’d helped them. I wasn’t straining to find the exact right thing to say. I was merely talking to myself about my business while doing a freeform information dump.
One of the things I wrote about was what had happened once my clients adopted the positions I created for them. Did they become famous? Find more prospects? Work on better projects? If so, where was the proof? What were the facts?
I happened upon fees. A client who used to charge $1,000 for an engagement, now charged $20,000. Hmm. A second client, who used to charge $350 an hour, now made $25,000 a day. Huh. A third client, who had been asking $3,000 for a keynote speech, now commanded $20,000. Hah. A pattern was forming.
I was a positioning consultant and writing coach, sure. But I was also the guy whose work helped clients “raise their fees by up to 2,000%.” My assertion was an attention-grabber, in part, because it wasn’t based on some notion I cooked up. It was based on facts.
The right facts make you distinctive.
When people ask me about creating their own elevator speech, I tell them to first list as many facts as they can about their business. Facts about their clients, process, services, products, results, philosophy, guarantees, and background, among other things. Obvious stuff. A long undifferentiated list.
I then ask that they look through that list for distinctive facts. In other words, which items on the list stand out? Which are interesting? Which are unusual? Which tell a story?
When looking for distinctions, some people freeze up. They think that finding distinctions is a special skill. It’s not. Most of us already know how to do it perfectly. We could do it in our sleep. It’s no harder than when we talk about a movie.
If a friend asked about a movie you just saw, you wouldn’t hesitate until you found just the right thing to say. You wouldn’t recount every scene. Instead, you’d head straight for something distinctive:
Finding business facts to talk about is no different. Let yourself experiment. Look over your fact list, search it for distinctions, and write elevator speeches around those distinctions:
[For a business development consultant] “I design sales pipelines for small businesses that bring in, on average, an additional two hundred thousand dollars in revenue during the first six months alone.” [For a productivity consultant] “Organizations like HP and Proctor & Gamble hire me to set up their employee rewards programs.” [For a fitness trainer] “For eight years, I was a Marine Lieutenant. Now I teach people how to be as fit and tough as a combat Marine.”The purpose of an elevator speech is to get the right people interested in you. It’s to start a conversation.
You may not find the proper speech right away. As you do more projects, come back to the exercise and add facts and distinctions to your list, and see how those might change the elevator speeches you’ve written.
I teach consultants how to write case studies. As part of that work, I ask that they describe the results of their projects. Here’s where many consultants hesitate. Why?
One group can’t talk, because they’re under non-disclosure agreements.
A second group doesn’t know the results. They do their piece, and don’t check back to see how the project as a whole progressed.
Then, there’s a third group.
The consultants in this group know the results of their work, but they don’t want to talk about them for a simple reason:
They think that to claim even partial credit for a project’s success means that they needed to be its main player. In other words, if they didn’t create the project, set its strategy, and handle its implementation, they pull back on parading their role. They feel they had to do it all.
Here’s what they’re missing, and what I’d like you to always remember:
You can be an important player on a project without having complete control over its outcome. Your contribution can still be crucial, even when you’re surrounded by a team of crucial contributors.
Talking about this idea reminds me of one consultant I worked with. For an hour I asked him to talk about the results of his projects. He hemmed and hawed. I kept pushing. Finally, when he saw I wouldn’t back down he told me something crazy:
A major technology company had hired him, because their product development team was stuck. The team’s direction had grown fuzzy. Teammates were fighting each other.
Through a few group sessions, this consultant helped the team right itself. They clarified their roles, came to agreements, set goals, and got moving again.
Months later, the team came up with a new product. I won’t name this product, but believe me, you know it. 75% of you reading this post own it. Time Magazine called it one of the three most innovative products of the year. The product has made the company billions of dollars, helped its stock price soar, and brought it wild market share .
Yet this consultant didn’t want to speak about it.
He said, “I didn’t invent, design, manufacture, or market the product. I didn’t have any direct hand in it. My client did all that.”
“Yes,” I said, “but without your contribution none of that may have happened. Or, if it did happen, it might have taken longer and cost the client a ton of money in lost sales.”
How, then, would you ethically handle such a situation? How do you take credit for your contribution, without grabbing too much of the limelight?
Here’s what I suggest: When writing about your own success stories, once you’ve explained your involvement in a project and are ready to talk about results, say the following:
“Due in part to my efforts, here’s what happened . . . “
Then, talk about revenues raised, costs cut, buzz created, and all the other results the organization enjoyed.
By using the phrase, “Due in part to my efforts” you’re letting listeners know that you’re not claiming credit for the whole initiative. You’re just rightfully taking credit for a piece of the whole. It’s a communications technique — and business philosophy — that you, your clients, and your prospects will appreciate.
