I know, we’re supposed to hire multiple specialists at once.

But do people actually do this? Hire 10 specialists at the same time? Even if I had the budget, who has time for 10 meetings a week?

In reality, most people hire one specialist at a time to plug the faucet, and are disappointed when water starts shooting out of their ears.
A few months later, they try again, this time with an ear specialist. Only for water to shoot out of their butts.

Just give me one good plumber, please. And then get my primary care physician on the phone.

I used to spring into action when businesses came to me for “just copywriting.”

I thought being a specialist helped them move forward. “Sure, I can write that website for you. My fee is this. Let’s get to work!”
But many times, what they thought they needed wasn’t what they actually needed.

I felt constricted.

“Oh, they really need help with this other thing. I want to help them, but it’s outside the scope, and I’m not even sure they’re willing to change that right now. Do I tell them they should change, or do I do my work and walk away and hope the next person wants the whole package—which I’m afraid to tell people about because experts keep telling me I will just confuse everyone who thinks I’m just a copywriter?”

People tell us generalists are less sophisticated.

Bumbling, even. Like a chiropractor who also gives ice skating lessons and runs a carpet-cleaning business.

But if you’re a chiropractor who can advise on diet and wellness and self-care and marketing your business in a way that doesn’t kill you?

You are not a generalist.
You’re an intelligent thinker who sees that these things fit together.

The solution you present is so amazing it prevents the problem from happening in the first place.

Do we all really need to specialize in dehydration tablets—
when I know people would be happier if they just drank more water and stayed away from Las Vegas?

What is water’s niche, anyway? It may be everywhere, but I can’t live without it.

I want to be water.

People won’t say, “So, what’s your niche?”

They’ll say, “Oh, hey! Water! You are incredibly useful to me! And I love how I can make you taste like cherries sometimes! I will have some water now. And later I will have some ice. And then maybe a nice, steam bath.”

I feel more aligned with the term Everlasting Gobstoppers.

Increasingly, I find myself looking for people to collaborate with, to hire, to be hired by, who are capable of multiple flavors. Everlasting Gobstoppers. Such as:

• A designer who is also a content strategist and who thinks (and writes) like a copywriter, like Sarah.
• A strategist who can keep people from implementing plans that aren’t right for them. Like Havi or Gwen.
• A career coach who is totally capable of telling you what strategies will work for you, and connecting you with the right implementers. Like Pam, Anne, or Suzannah.
• A “right-hand girl” who can edit your work and help you get unstuck. Like Briana.
• A visual facilitator with mad business skills and connections. Like Julie.
• An illustrator who has tons of ideas on creating unforgettable customer experiences. Like Sparky.
• A copywriter who produces profitable business ideas, who strategizes, cajoles, coaches, and collaborates until business takes off. (Who, me?)

I hereby proclaim my emancipation from the terms niche and generalist.

I am a proud, candy-carrying Everlasting Gobstopper.

Want one?

Every business person has extraordinary powers. But it’s hard to find ways to talk about those powers so clients pay a premium. It’s less hard when we do it together in real time.  Yes, real time, thanks to the magic of the telephone. And eight hours of sleep. Read all about it—and see how you can get a three-for-all. A free 30-minute social web session with Gwen Bell, and a second free 30-minute design direction jam with Sarah J. Bray.

People love parties because they can do whatever they want.

The Essential Law of Parties has a secret loophole, which introverts can use to their advantage.

Because parties have no rules, we can leave whenever we feel like it.

We don’t realize this because we are introverts. We think about how people will feel when we leave “early” (popularly defined as “before anyone else does”), and then we don’t leave, and feel miserable.

Because we’re afraid to be afraid to leave, we stay home, which is not what we really want to do.

What we really want to do is to see if the party is any fun, and to go home as soon as we feel like it.

Go to all the parties. Now you know to apply these three easy steps for spontaneous departure.

Step 1: Tell the extrovert friend who invited you that you’re trying this thing where you go home as soon as you feel like it.

The benefit to them is you’ll come whenever they invite you anywhere. (As long as you bring your own car or call a cab.) They don’t have to persuade you. They’ll mock you anyway. They love to mock you. Humor them. You get to leave early.

By the time you leave, your extrovert friend will have found a new and shiny friend. They hate to lose a party asset, just on principle, and will tease you as you walk out the door, because you’re detracting from their party net worth.

It’s like a billionaire losing $100. They might get upset, because how do you think billionaires became billionaires? But they will live. They will thrive. You will not thrive. You need to leave this party immediately.

Step 2: Notice how you feel.

Be ready to leave, guilt-free, as soon as you feel like going home. You know that feeling. You’re just done. That’s it. Go home now.

Step 3: Look like you are having THE TIME OF YOUR LIFE as you say goodbye.

Never leave a party early looking tired. It’s a common introvert mistake. You want everyone to secretly suspect you’re going to another party, so they don’t feel sorry for you. It’s not lying to be enthusiastic, because it’s true. You’re enthusiastic to be here. You’re simply playing the cassette tape of your enthusiasm from earlier. So you can go home like it’s no big deal:

“OMG, this was so much fun!” (It really was, and now it’s time for you to go.)

Other introverts in the room will wish they’d thought of that.

You’re home! Clean sheets and cheesy bread! My favorite way to end a Friday night.

Psst. Can you keep a secret? Then you’ll fit right in with the rest of the Secret Discount Scouts. Secrets! Discounts! Adventure! Just don’t tell anyone. Coming soon…a new product that will take you by the hand up Website Copywriting Mountain. Join today–but quietly. Quietly.

1. This is brilliant. I am on fire. A natural talent!
2. There is so much great stuff in here. I can feel it!
3. I can’t wait for someone to read it!
4. This isn’t my own genius. It’s coming through me, but it is not me.
5. This is terrible.
6. This is probably the worst thing I’ve ever written.
7. This doesn’t even make sense.
8. This is a professional embarrassment.
9. I’ll never write again.
10. I never could.
11. How can I let anyone read this?
12. Maybe it’s not so bad, if I delete 80 percent.
13. Okay, that part is not bad.
14. It’s pretty good.
15. No, it’s still not good. It’s not good at all. It’s bad.
16. I’m afraid to look.
17. I am finished, professionally speaking.
18. I can’t possibly show this to anyone.
19. The shame!
20. I have to turn this in. There’s a deadline.
21. It’s good enough. For now.
22. I can fix it later.
23. Maybe no one will notice how irritating I am.
24. This part is actually kind of good.
25. Funny. How did I think of that?
26. This is good. I’ll probably never write this way again.
27. I will never write this way again. I might as well accept that. It was a different time.
28. No, this is terrible.
29. This is a mediocre piece of writing, at best.
30. Definitely not my best work.
31. This is terrible.
32. I never want to read this again.
33. I should probably just start over.
34. I don’t know—what do you think?

Psst. Can you keep a secret? Then you’ll fit right in with the rest of the Secret Discount Scouts. Secrets! Discounts! Adventure! Just don’t tell anyone. Coming soon…a new product that will take you by the hand up Website Copywriting Mountain. Join today–but quietly. Quietly.

I spent last week at Havi Brooks’ Destuckification Retreat, but I’m not going to talk about that here. (You’d be reading 150 pages about epiphanies and conversations with Monster, the three-inch-tall, stuffed monster who lives in a fire station in the front of my head.) Instead, this post tells the story of what happened the night before the retreat, when I managed to win a dance contest at a teachers convention at this hotel by the airport.

By the way, did you know teachers have dance contests at their conferences? I guess it’s one of those secrets we were never meant to discover.

I don’t usually crash teacher conferences. But my teacher-friend was in town, so my dance partner and I drove down to see her. (Yes, I have a dance partner. Yes, this is his full-time job.)

In the elevator on the way up to my friend’s room, we were joined by a quiet, gray-haired man (8th-grade-social-studies?). He looked set to retire for the evening, with a green canvas conference bag in one hand and a Corona with lime in the other. Two older ladies with their own green conference bags got on just as the doors were closing. “Nightcap?” they said. Everyone laughed knowingly, as if this was just the beginning of the debauchery about to unfold.

When my teacher-friend informed us there was a buffet and a dance party taking place downstairs, I knew we had to be there.

Luckily, I had come prepared with Saran-wrapped Stilton cheese and an apple—just in case someone asked for teacher ID. My teacher-friend said it would also help if one of us was carrying a water bottle. I decided to risk it and just go with the cheese. To me, being a teacher is a mindset. Something you inhabit from within.

We glided through the doors and into the ballroom as I repeated the mantra, “I am a teacher. I know all. I am powerful and wise. I belong.”

The dance party was just getting started. Teachers were beginning to flood the dance floor in their turtlenecks and high-waisted slacks. We watched them do the YMCA. We watched them do The Hustle and The Electric Slide. We even watched them do Thriller. It felt so wondrous, but adorable at the same time. Like coming upon a tribe of lions doing calisthenics.

Then a slow Journey song came on, and everyone evacuated the dance floor.

I realized we were the only people who didn’t know anyone in a room full of people who all kind of knew each other—and no one would ever see us again. It was like dance amnesty!

My dance partner and I raced over to the completely empty dance floor. We danced more badly to that song than we had ever danced before. Epileptically. You know the Journey song that goes from slow to fast? It was that song. By the end of the song, I could feel hundreds of teacher-eyes watching us, questioning, wondering. ‘What subject do THEY teach? Why are they dancing TOGETHER?’

Just when I thought I couldn’t dance any longer, the DJ (11th grade biology teacher?) walked up and thrust a home-made CD into my hands. Just the CD—no cover.

“Congratulations!!!!” he said. “You won the dance contest!!!!”

As soon as we won the dance contest (I’ve always wanted to say that), I decided we should quit while we were ahead. We couldn’t risk it. Plus, we needed to give the real teachers a chance.

We walked out of the ballroom as I repeated the mantra that had brought me this far. “I am a teacher. I know all. I am powerful and wise. I belong.” We escaped, undetected.

Strolling through the hotel that evening, basking in the soft glow of the words “dance contest winners!!!”, we would pass teachers, their gazes lingering in recognition. We were famous—but only for one night! Which is the best kind of fame there is.

Is this conference the highlight of every teacher’s year, professionally? It was definitely the highlight of mine (so what if it’s only February?)—and the perfect way to spend a night before a perfectly destuckified retreat.

Whether I’m writing my own bio or someone else’s, I find bios the most extraordinarily difficult kind of copy to write. How many of us compress our lives into 200 words or less in real-life conversation? Only the most annoying ones, that’s who. Bio-speak has practically developed into its own language. Spend an afternoon reading LinkedIn profiles and you’ll become a bio-speak master. “Boring is better” seems to be the prevailing attitude. Even a New York Times reporter was unable to remain completely objective about this issue.

Here’s an example of bio-speak at its worst:

Jane Madison is an accomplished, seasoned consultant and thought leader* with 23 years experience creating top-line and bottom-line results for Fortune-1 companies. That’s right–she only works with Fortune’s number one company in any given year, producing millions of dollars in revenue. It’s unclear whether the beneficiary of this revenue is her or her clients. She’s pretty sure it’s her clients, although she does live in an exclusive Woodside neighborhood with her husband and their five pedigree horses. She has a BS in Advanced Psychographic Analytics from Harvard University, where she made the Dean’s List for five years in a row. Although she graduated in a record two years, she remained on the Dean’s List for a subsequent three years because of the vast influence her term papers had on the academic world as a whole.

*Thanks to Nathan Bowers for reminding me of this popular bio adornment.

OK, I made this up. But let’s assume you want your bio to sound a bit less douche-y than that.

Wouldn’t it be nice to have a bio that sounded like an actual person wrote it—rather than the Bizarro, corporate version of you?

The following 16 questions are designed to help you produce the raw ingredients to write bios like this or like this.

But before you dig in, please read these instructions:

1. Set a timer for 26 minutes. This is very important. Do not skip this step! If you’re a Level-9 Procrastinator like me, you’ll never start this exercise if you don’t give yourself permission to do it quickly. This doesn’t have to become a 3-hour, story-of-my-life writing intervention. (Unless you want it to.)
2. Answer the questions in a rambling, conversational style. You might even write them in the body of an email you pretend to send to a friend. Don’t worry about perfect sentences. This exercise is not designed to help you craft your bio. It’s simply to help you dig up all the good, fresh stuff buried in your brain, which you can then use to craft your bio. If you hate writing and are better at thinking on your feet, then speak your answers into a recorder or iPhone and transcribe them.
3. Let your answers sit for a while. Then bold the answers that seem interesting, unexpected, insightful, profound, or just plain feel like you.

Now you’re ready to go. Here are 16 questions to get you started and to keep you from writing a bio-speak bio.

16 Questions to Help You Write Your Bio

1. How did you arrive at running this business? What path brought you here?
2. What are you known for professionally? What do you have a knack for?
3. What’s the one problem you are best at solving for your clients? What do your ideal clients say about you?
4. Who have you worked with in the past? And what have you done for them?
5. What are you most passionate about professionally? What most excites you about your work & the contribution you can make?
6. What are you passionate about personally? What do you really enjoy? What can’t you stop talking about?
7. Where can we find you when you’re not working? What’s your favorite way to spend a weekend or a Sunday afternoon?
8. How long have you been doing what you do?
9. Where did you grow up and why aren’t you there now?
10. Any volunteer activities you’re crazy about?
11. Any nonprofits you love, & why?
12. Any awards or medals, or even medallions? Personal okay, too.
13. What would be impossible for you to give up?
14. Why would someone not want to work with you?
15. How do you want to be remembered?
16. Anything else you’d like to tell people about yourself?

You can use this bio for your LinkedIn profile, for your website’s About page, or for a speaker bio.

And, if you complete these questions and still feel stuck, why not send me an email?

Psst. Can you keep a secret? Then you’ll fit right in with the rest of the Secret Discount Scouts. Secrets! Discounts! Adventure! Just don’t tell anyone. Coming soon…a new product that will take you by the hand up Website Copywriting Mountain. Join today–but quietly. Quietly.

I applied this technique to get out of 2 traffic tickets and, most recently, to grow my business.

You can, too. This post walks you through how to do both.

What do your prospects have in common with that police officer who pulled you over?

Like the police officer, your prospects are looking to solve problems.
The police officer, of course, equates you WITH the problem.

Both prospects and your customers hope you’ll be easy to deal with, and won’t shoot them.

You can convince them to give you a chance using the assumptive close.

“But that sounds manipulative!”

The assumptive close is much more than a manipulative cold-calling tactic like the well-worn, “So, would you prefer Wednesday or Thursday?”

The manipulative assumptive close happens when you’re recommending something despite what might be best for the prospect/police officer.

The authentic assumptive close means meeting the prospect where they are. You understand their problems, feel their pain, and want them to do what would be best for them. You truly believe you can help them. There’s no difference between outside and inside. I can haz integrity?

How to use the assumptive close to get out of your next ticket—or to attract your next prospect with your website.

Step 1: The police lights are flashing behind you. The voice of God is instructing you to pull over.

A prospect (or a police officer) has found you. Congratulations! No matter the outcome, right now they’re interested and engaged. So, you pull over. Now what?

Step 2: If it’s dark, immediately turn on your overhead light.

What officers want most is to feel safe. They don’t want to have to be on guard.
Make them feel like good guys by showing them you’re a good guy–or gal.
Turn on your overhead light.
It’s secret police language for, “I understand you’re wary, but I’ve got nothing to hide.”

Like cops, your prospects WANT to be reassured. Make it easy for them to see you. Here’s how:

• Let your website show YOU. Don’t hide behind some overly professional, corporate tone.
• Give clean navigation with the least number of buttons and options possible. Your prospects should not feel confused or uncertain.
• Don’t start off your home page with a bunch of “Are you this?” and “Are you that?” yes-or-no questions. It’s scary and invasive. Instead, ask open-ended questions like “How” or “What happens when?” You want to invite them to see the possibilities, to show them you feel their pain without putting them on the spot.

Step 2: Put your hands on the wheel.

When it comes to your website, putting your hands on the wheel means:

• Not forcing them to fill out a popup box before they know what you’re all about
• Not asking them too many questions on the home page
• Not trying to close the sale immediately with a premature call to action. Give them enough helpful information so they can make a decision at their own pace.

Step 3: When the officer approaches your window, roll it down and smile in a relaxed way (because you ARE relaxed).

Believe you are getting out of this ticket. There’s nothing to fear here, no need to overjustify.
Be quiet and listen.

On your website, think of your About page as that window rolling down and you smiling out.
It’s usually the first page people click on—before your Services or your Approach pages.

Being relaxed means letting yourself shine through, and not hiding behind a bunch of credentials.

Assume the prospect already believes you’re qualified. You don’t have to try so hard by listing out every possible way in which you are qualified; instead, you start with what they care about, and why you care so much about what they care about.

As an example, here are two About pages I wrote for clients.
Notice how each About page starts off by talking about the prospect, and not about the company:

• http://newrelic.com/about
• http://benzcommunications.com/aboutus

Step 4: Show the police officer your Peace Corps ID (or WHATEVER you’ve got).

OK, I admit it. I never used to have my drivers license or proof of insurance on me. But, a few years ago, I DID have my Peace Corps ID. So, I dug around a bit and produced it.

“Where’s Guinea?” said the officer.
“West Africa.”
“What did you eat over there?”
“Bush rat stew. And lots of rice and sauce.”
“Well, you’re going to have to slow down. And maybe hire a professional organizer. Your car is a mess.”
“I know, I will.”

The end. I was on my way.

When you apply the assumptive close, you actually enjoy the process of “selling,” because you can relax, detach yourself from the outcome, and just focus on making it easy and safe for them.

Try it. See what happens.

Image by eflon via Flickr, used under a Creative Commons license.

Psst. Can you keep a secret? Then you’ll fit right in with the rest of the Secret Discount Scouts. Secrets! Discounts! Adventure! Just don’t tell anyone. Coming soon…a new product that will take you by the hand up Website Copywriting Mountain. Join today–but quietly. Quietly.

How do you come up with good ideas on deadline, all day, every day?

It’s not just about keeping your Creative Fun Fountain spraying.

It’s also about managing stress and fear so you CAN feel creative. Since it’s physiologically impossible to be creative and afraid at the same time, getting creative means finding ways to cope with fear and stress.

I think I’ve discovered the closest thing to a miracle cure–and am starting a 30-day experiment to see how it works.

It’s difficult to measure my “before.” How do you count your good ideas and compare them with your bad ones? So, instead, I can only report the way I feel now. And, at the end of 30 days, I can report back. How creative did I feel? What kinds of connections did my brain make? Any epiphanies I’d care to share with the class?

Remember the gigantic trampolines we all loved as kids?

I grew up with what you might call a healthy exposure to them.

• I took gymnastics throughout elementary school, where we practiced our tumbles on a gigantic trampoline every day.
  
• Whenever my parents were at work, I’d pile up all the couch cushions and do running aerial somersaults off my mini-trampoline.
• The first short story I ever wrote–at age 5–involved a cherry doing somersaults over a goat.
• In 4th grade, I wrote an essay about my favorite present ever, which was–you guessed it–a mini-trampoline.
• I frequently dream about flying.
• I would have become a trapeze artist, but I was always terrible at gymnastics.

These days, I spend most of my time in a chair, reading small type on a computer screen, living and making my living in my head.

I love writing just a wee bit more than I love trampolines, so it’s worked out okay.

But what would happen to my head if my body started moving?

I’m not talking about just exercise. I’ve been running and lifting weights since junior high. I’m talking about the kind of movement where you lose control of your body for a few moments, until gravity takes over and brings you back down.

I’m talking about furious Tiggeresque bouncin’.

I’m talking about trampolines!

Astronauts swear by them. And, well, I just bought one. As usual, inspiration came by way of my dear friend Havi Brooks, who recently wrote about her business-altering experience with a trampoline.

My new trampoline feels like the gigantic trampolines I used to have as a kid, only smaller. Small enough to fit nicely into my studio apartment. It gives me a soft, incredibly bouncy bounce–with my head just inches from hitting the ceiling. Possibility of serious injury in my own apartment? I like this!

So, my experiment attempts to measure the following:

What happens when I substitute tramping for my usual 10-minute break activities? For 30 days in a row?

Instead of the internet, instead of Twitter, instead of making myself a snack: I will tramp.

TRAMP TRAMP TRAMP TRAMP out the blues. Tramp out the reds. Tramp out the yellows, the oranges. Just tramp it out.

I have to say, after just three days of tramping, I feel pretty amazing.
I can’t put it down to exercise, because I’ve been exercising already.

There’s something going on at a cellular level.

Oddly, the trampoline both calms and elates me. I’ve only had 6 hours of sleep for three nights in a row and I feel fine. That’s unusual for me.

I’m curious what happens after a few days of these endorphin rushes.
Will I need more and more time on the trampoline just to feel normal again?

And, what happens if, in addition to tramping every day, I’m also:

• Practicing 10 minutes of Shiva Nata daily (also courtesy Havi Brooks). This is the epiphany-generating dance-like thingy that I have YET to really stick with. OK, I’m ready for my epiphany now.
• Writing on a Moleskin with a pen, because I like it. Although writing on paper is slower than writing on a computer, my theory is that because I enjoy it, I’ll get better business benefits by having better ideas, which leads to more revenue. Since I don’t bill by the hour, it doesn’t really matter how long it takes. When I get good ideas, everyone wins.

For a long time now, I’ve put off doing enjoyable things because they weren’t business-related.

Now, I’m finding a business purpose in the enjoyable.

Delight, joy, humor, pleasure. These things that don’t require discipline are somehow minimized.

But maybe we’re tired of doing things we’re supposed to want to do.

Maybe we just want to do the things we WANT to.

And maybe–just maybe–the business purpose is even greater there?

And, if everyone is enjoying life a little bit more, does it really matter?

Want to start your own 30-day experiment?

Or, want to test drive a trampoline? Show some comment love and I’ll point you in the right direction.

Psst. Can you keep a secret? Then you’ll fit right in with the rest of the Secret Discount Scouts. Secrets! Discounts! Adventure! Just don’t tell anyone. Coming soon…a new product that will take you by the hand up Website Copywriting Mountain. Join today–but quietly. Quietly.