WEEEOOOOOOEEEE: Name-drop alert!
When I met Dan Kennedy in March 2016 (yes, that Dan Kennedy, the Godfather of Modern Marketing), he told me all about how he jiggles his pipe every day.
After I picked my jaw up off the floor and stopped giggling, he explained.
Every day he does something to jiggle the money pipe and get wealth flowing into his business.
It might be sending an email. Calling up a past client. Writing and publishing an article.
Or, it might be sending someone something in the post.
This isn’t a post about direct mail. I’ll write something about that another time.
This is a blog post about human contact. Making someone smile. Touching their life in some small way.
Let me explain.
My best friend Emma moved to Cornwall a few years ago. I live in Herringfordshire, about 250 miles away in actual distance but frankly we’re in a transport black hole and I might as well be on the Falkland Islands sometimes.
I don’t get to see her as often these days… but when we do get together, it’s like no time has passed at all.
In between those visits, though, we write to each other. With actual paper, pens, and ink.
Sometimes they’re long letters. Sometimes, like today, it’s a postcard I found that I thought she might like.
When a letter from Emma arrives in my postbox, it puts a big cheesy grin on my face. I get a little warm glow that spreads from my belly up to my ears, and I settle down to read it with pleasure.
Because knowing someone has taken the time to think about you and write to you, personally, with paper and envelope and stamp, is just delightful.
How do you feel when you get something personal in the post?
How often do you get something personal in the post?
Do you think, if you sent your customers and clients and prospective buyers something thoughtful every now and then, it might help them choose to buy from you?
I know it will.
In all the excitement about the digital world, the internet, and all the opportunities it presents, people forget about the real world.
And in the wonderful age of automation — because automation is wonderful in many ways — we forget about the personal touch.
That individual message or letter or postcard or thought that says, “I thought about you.”
Every time you find something — an article online or off, a book, a postcard, a quote, anything — and you think, “Ooh, Fred who runs the bicycle shop would love that!” Grab it and stick it in a folder marked “Fred the Bicycle”.
Then, once a month or so, package that stuff up and send it to him.
Do this for all your prospects and clients. The ones whom you really want to work with, whom you love working with, and who are your best and most valuable contacts.
Tell them a story.
Draw them in.
Create your own story with them.
And if you’re not sure how to do that, well…
Grab a copy of my Storytelling Chronicle, previously only available to my Superheroes.
It’s just £20, and the value you’ll get from it — if you put it into action — will be worth many times more.
Get your copy here:
About the Author
Please do share any articles from this site in part or in full — as long as you leave all links intact, give credit to the author, and include a link to this website and the following bio. Vicky is a gin-quaffing, pole-dancing, trapeze-swinging copywriter who writes about the perils and joys of writing, velociraptor training, and running a small business. She writes this stuff on her websites vickyfraser.com and cookiesforbreakfast.co.uk. She’s the author of one book (with two more in utero) and teaches small business owners how to write copy that sells, and how to be more fecking interesting. You can follow her on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, Pinterest, and LinkedIn.
PS I’ve been absent from your inbox for a few days. I’ve done no pipe-jiggling. Because my little pet lamb, Tigger, became very ill suddenly and died on Tuesday. I was totally devastated.
Joe’s been away in Poland all week. And I’ve been taking care of Bronson, my other lamb, who has been lost without Tigger.
We’ve both been lost together.
I just didn’t want to even think about business, let alone look at anything.
But I am back now, jiggling my pipe. And Bronson is no longer alone…