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Internal primaries

How do you decide what to make next?

Over the last few decades, I’ve probably launched 500 products and services. And I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone talk about how organizations go about deciding what to make and what to shelve. How do you decide where to invest your scarce people and promotional resources?

If there’s anything that can have a significant impact on you and your team, it’s this decision. If marketing is the product, then choosing which product to market is your most important moment. Here are some of the reasons I’ve used (and have seen others use) to make this decision:

  • It’s something a major customer wants
  • It’s something our technology can do easily
  • Someone with a lot of power and authority in the organization really wants it
  • It’ll be fun
  • If we don’t do it, our competition will
  • It’s important to our community or society
  • It’s cheap
  • It’s easy
  • It will increase our margins
  • It appeals to our competition’s base, thus growing our market share
  • It’s Bob’s turn
  • It locks in our base, making it less likely they’ll be stolen by the competition
  • We didn’t launch this one last time, so its turn has come around
  • It will make us look smart
  • It’s the next logical item
  • I love it
  • It responds to an RFP
  • It will burnish our reputation
  • It adds a feature that our CEO really, really wants
  • We have a salesforce to support, and this fills in their grid
  • Our investors tell us that this is a must-have
  • It will increase traffic to our site
  • I can sell it to customer X
  • It’s a copy/improvement over something our competition is doing
  • Our current stuff doesn’t meet regulations and this does
  • The critics will respect us
  • We’ve come this far and quitting now costs too much
  • A huge market dominator promises to promote it if we build it
  • A big retailer says they’ll carry it
  • A key employee is bored and this will keep them busy
  • We have unused capacity in the plant

There are legendary stories about how Lorne Michaels made decisions about this on Saturday Night Live, about how Microsoft and AOL picked their future by doing (and not doing) certain launches and of course, how our political parties do it. It’s almost always done poorly and it’s almost always important. Feel free to add your own on my lens.

Walkabout

Barberpic

John has a good post about soft skills and selling in rural India. Scroll down on the site, it’s below this picture.

The Fellows blog is a great example of how blogging changes things. Not just for the outreach, but because it changes how the writer expresses himself, it creates a record and a diary and a useful version of ground truth, all at the same time.

What if everyone had a blog? And used it to tell their truth?

People with passion

Neat Japanese magazine…

Lessons from voting

A few (marketing) things to think about on Galactic Interstellar Tuesday:

  • Voting is free.
  • Some people really like to vote. It builds a connection for them.
  • A big part of voting are the senior citizens who sit at the desk when you walk in to vote. Surely we could figure out how to vote without so many paid poll workers, but it makes it better.
  • Other people have a real problem with voting, probably involving the act of taking responsibility.
  • Voting makes some people feel as good as if they just gave blood, but you don’t get cookies or a pin.
  • Many, many people feel uncomfortable voting for someone they think might lose.
  • Other people think there’s no such thing as a wasted vote.
  • The layout of almost every voting machine I have ever seen is just terrible. Inspired by a cross between a fusebox and a prison.
  • Most people I see voting go to the polls alone.
  • Very few people have voting parties.
  • If you voted with your parents, I bet you’re more likely to vote now.
  • People rarely dress up when they go out to vote.
  • There are no prizes or other promotions associated with voting (vote once, get another vote free).
  • ATM machines never screw up, voting machines do. A lot.
  • If you vote when you’re young, you’ll probably vote when you’re old.
  • If a person votes for you, they feel a lot more connected to the work you do.
  • Elections are quite close more than you would imagine. Which means that votes surely matter. Yet a majority of people don’t bother. I wonder which reason above matters most?

Perhaps you don’t have to take yourself so seriously…

Puma doesn’t. Thanks, Gabe.

Puma

Fear, hope and love: the three marketing levers

Where does love come from? Brand love?

The TSA is in the fear business. Every time they get you take off your shoes, they’re using fear (of the unknown or perhaps of missing your plane) to get you take action.

Chanel is in the hope business. How else to get you to spend $5,000 a gallon for perfume?

Hope can be something as trivial as convenience. I hope that this smaller size of yogurt will save me time or get a smile out of my teenager…

And love? Love gets you to support a candidate even when he screws up or changes his mind on a position or disagrees with you on another one. Love incites you to protest when they change the formula for Coke, or to cry out in delight when you see someone at the market wearing a Google t-shirt.

People take action (mostly) based on one of three emotions:

Fear
Hope
Love

Every successful marketer (including politicians) takes advantage of at least one of these basic needs.

Forbes Magazine, for example, is for people who hope to make more money.

Rudy Giuliani was the fear candidate. He tried to turn fear into love, but failed.

Few products or services succeed out of love. People are too selfish for an emotion that selfless, most of the time.

It’s interesting to think about the way certain categories gravitate to various emotions. Doctors selling check ups, of course, are in the fear business (while oncologists certainly sell hope). Restaurants have had a hard time selling fear (healthy places don’t do so well). Singles bars certainly thrive on selling hope.

Google, amazingly quickly, became a beloved brand, something many people see as bigger than themselves, something bigger than hope. Apple lives in this arena as well. I think if you deliver hope for a long time (and deliver on it sometimes) you can graduate to love. Ronald Reagan was beloved, even when he was making significant long-term errors. So was JFK. Hillary may be respected, but Obama is loved.

I don’t think love is often a one way street, either. Brands that are loved usually start the process by loving their customers in advance.

The easiest way to build a brand is to sell fear. The best way, though, may be to deliver on hope while aiming for love…

Not Seth Godin

Every once in a while, someone sends me an email saying, "Is this really you?"

Of course, it’s a silly question, since if an admin were secretly responding to my mail, a question like this certainly doesn’t end the subterfuge. You’d need to do something like ask in Navajo or some secret code.

Anyway, I don’t have a staff. It’s just me. (Though having a staff seems to work really well for Tim.)

Which leads to this post. I don’t use Twitter. It’s not really me. I also don’t actively use FaceBook, and I’m not adding any friends, though I still have an account for the day when I no doubt will. I also don’t use Flickr or MySpace or Meebo.

My reasoning is simple, and it has two parts. First, I don’t want to use a tool unless I’m going to use it really well. Doing any of these things halfway is worse than not at all. People don’t want a mediocre interaction. Second, I don’t want to add a layer of staff between me and the tools I use and the people I interact with. I think both of these ideas go together, and unfortunately, they’re also a paradox. If you want to be in multiple social media and also have a day job, you’re going to need a staff. Scoble is the poster child for being everywhere, all the time, but it’s all he does.

In 1993, we installed a primitive form of chat on our network at work. I think it was called SnapMail. I discovered pretty quickly that I was spending three or four hours a day using it. I was really good at it. And I also didn’t get as much done as I needed to. So we ripped it out. Just because it was stimulating doesn’t meant it helped with our goal.

So, please don’t worry if it’s really me. If it’s me, I’ll tell you here.

Better than Free

Kevin Kelly has a fantastic (no surprise) riff about free. Highly recommended.

His point: when there are infinite copies of something, charging for one is almost impossible.

Here are his eight ways of making something worth charging for:

Immediacy — Sooner or later you can
find a free copy of whatever you want, but getting a copy delivered to
your inbox the moment it is released — or even better, produced — by
its creators is a generative asset. Many people go to movie theaters to
see films on the opening night, where they will pay a hefty price to
see a film that later will be available for free, or almost free, via
rental or download. Hardcover books command a premium for their
immediacy, disguised as a harder cover. First in line often commands an
extra price for the same good. As a sellable quality, immediacy has
many levels, including access to beta versions. Fans are brought into
the generative process itself. Beta versions are often de-valued
because they are incomplete, but they also possess generative qualities
that can be sold. Immediacy is a relative term, which is why it is
generative. It has to fit with the product and the audience. A blog has
a different sense of time than a movie, or a car. But immediacy can be
found in any media.

Personalization — A generic version of a concert
recording may be free, but if you want a copy that has been tweaked to
sound perfect in your particular living room — as if it were preformed
in your room — you may be willing to pay a lot.  The free copy of a
book can be custom edited by the publishers to reflect your own
previous reading background. A free movie you buy may be cut to reflect
the rating you desire (no violence, dirty language okay). Aspirin is
free, but aspirin tailored to your DNA is very expensive. As many have
noted, personalization requires an ongoing conversation between the
creator and consumer, artist and fan, producer and user. It is deeply
generative because it is iterative and time consuming. You can’t copy
the personalization that a relationship represents. Marketers call that
"stickiness" because it means both sides of the relationship are stuck
(invested) in this generative asset, and will be reluctant to switch
and start over.

Interpretation — As the old joke goes: software,
free. The manual, $10,000. But it’s no joke. A couple of high profile
companies, like Red Hat, Apache, and others make their living doing
exactly that. They provide paid support for free software. The copy of
code, being mere bits, is free — and becomes valuable to you only
through the support and guidance. I suspect a lot of genetic
information will go this route. Right now getting your copy of your DNA
is very expensive, but soon it won’t be. In fact, soon pharmaceutical
companies will PAY you to get your genes sequence. So the copy of your
sequence will be free, but the interpretation of what it means, what
you can do about it, and how to use it — the manual for your genes so
to speak — will be expensive.

Authenticity — You might be able to grab a key
software application for free, but even if you don’t need a manual, you
might like to be sure it is bug free, reliable, and warranted. You’ll
pay for authenticity. There are nearly an infinite number of variations
of the Grateful Dead jams around; buying an authentic version from the
band itself will ensure you get the one you wanted. Or that it was
indeed actually performed by the Dead. Artists have dealt with this
problem for a long time. Graphic reproductions such as photographs and
lithographs often come with the artist’s stamp of authenticity — a
signature — to raise the price of the copy. Digital watermarks and
other signature technology will not work as copy-protection schemes
(copies are super-conducting liquids, remember?) but they can serve up
the generative quality of authenticity for those who care.

Accessibility — Ownership often sucks. You have to
keep your things tidy, up-to-date, and in the case of digital material,
backed up. And in this mobile world, you have to carry it along with
you. Many people, me included, will be happy to have others tend our
"possessions" by subscribing to them. We’ll pay Acme Digital Warehouse
to serve us any musical tune in the world, when and where we want it,
as well as any movie, photo (ours or other photographers). Ditto for
books and blogs.  Acme backs everything up, pays the creators, and
delivers us our desires. We can sip it from our phones, PDAs, laptops,
big screens from where-ever. The fact that most of this material will
be available free, if we want to tend it, back it up, keep adding to
it, and organize it, will be less and less appealing as time goes on.

Embodiment — At its core the digital copy is without
a body. You can take a free copy of a work and throw it on a screen.
But perhaps you’d like to see it in hi-res on a huge screen? Maybe in
3D? PDFs are fine, but sometimes it is delicious to have the same words
printed on bright white cottony paper, bound in leather. Feels so good.
What about dwelling in your favorite (free) game with 35 others in the
same room? There is no end to greater embodiment. Sure, the hi-res of
today — which may draw ticket holders to a big theater — may migrate
to your home theater tomorrow, but there will always be new insanely
great display technology that consumers won’t have. Laser projection,
holographic display, the holodeck itself! And nothing gets embodied as
much as music in a live performance, with real bodies. The music is
free; the bodily performance expensive. This formula is quickly
becoming a common one for not only musicians, but even authors. The
book is free; the bodily talk is expensive.

Patronage — It is my belief that audiences WANT to
pay creators. Fans like to reward artists, musicians, authors and the
like with the tokens of their appreciation, because it allows them to
connect. But they will only pay if it is very easy to do, a reasonable
amount, and they feel certain the money will directly benefit the
creators. Radiohead’s recent high-profile experiment in letting fans
pay them whatever they wished for a free copy is an excellent
illustration of the power of patronage. The elusive, intangible
connection that flows between appreciative fans and the artist is worth
something. In Radiohead’s case it was about $5 per download. There are
many other examples of the audience paying simply because it feels
good.

Findability — Where as the previous generative
qualities reside within creative digital works, findability is an asset
that occurs at a higher level in the aggregate of many works. A zero
price does not help direct attention to a work, and in fact may
sometimes hinder it. But no matter what its price, a work has no value
unless it is seen; unfound masterpieces are worthless. When there are
millions of books, millions of songs, millions of films, millions of
applications, millions of everything requesting our attention — and
most of it free — being found is valuable. 

The giant aggregators such as Amazon and Netflix make their living in
part by helping the audience find works they love. They bring out the
good news of the "long tail" phenomenon, which we all know, connects
niche audiences with niche productions. But sadly, the long tail is
only good news for the giant aggregators, and larger mid-level
aggregators such as publishers, studios, and labels. The "long tail" is
only lukewarm news to creators themselves. But since findability can
really only happen at the systems level, creators need aggregators.
This is why publishers, studios, and labels (PSL)will never disappear.
They are not needed for distribution of the copies (the internet
machine does that). Rather the PSL are needed for the distribution of
the users’ attention back to the works. From an ocean of possibilities
the PSL find, nurture and refine the work of creators that they believe
fans will connect with. Other intermediates such as critics and
reviewers also channel attention. Fans rely on this multi-level
apparatus of findability to discover the works of worth out of the
zillions produced. There is money to be made (indirectly for the
creatives) by finding talent. For many years the paper publication TV
Guide made more money than all of the 3 major TV networks it "guided"
combined. The magazine guided and pointed viewers to the good stuff on
the tube that week. Stuff, it is worth noting, that was free to the
viewers.  There is little doubt that besides the mega-aggregators, in
the world of the free many PDLs will make money selling findability —
in addition to the other generative qualities.

Subscription

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Thanks for reading.

Permission Marketing

Permission marketing is the privilege (not the right) of delivering anticipated, personal and relevant messages to people who actually want to get them.

It recognizes the new power of the best consumers to ignore marketing. It realizes that treating people with respect is the best way to earn their attention.

Pay attention is a key phrase here, because permission marketers understand that when someone chooses to pay attention they are actually paying you with something precious. And there’s no way they can get their attention back if they change their mind. Attention becomes an important asset, something to be valued, not wasted.

Real permission is different from presumed or legalistic permission. Just because you somehow get my email address doesn’t mean you have permission. Just because I don’t complain doesn’t mean you have permission. Just because it’s in the fine print of your privacy policy doesn’t mean it’s permission either.

Real permission works like this: if you stop showing up, people complain, they ask where you went.

I got a note from a Daily Candy reader the other day. He was upset because for three days in a row, his Daily Candy newsletter hadn’t come. That’s permission.

Permission is like dating. You don’t start by asking for the sale at first impression. You earn the right, over time, bit by bit.

One of the key drivers of permission marketing, in addition to the scarcity of attention, is the extraordinarily low cost of dripping to people who want to hear from you. RSS and email and other techniques mean you don’t have to worry about stamps or network ad buys every time you have something to say. Home delivery is the milkman’s revenge… it’s the essence of permission.

Permission doesn’t have to be formal but it has to be obvious. My friend has permission to call me if he needs to borrow five dollars, but the person you meet at a trade show has no such ability to pitch you his entire resume, even though he paid to get in.

Subscriptions are an overt act of permission. That’s why home delivery newspaper readers are so valuable, and why magazine subscribers are worth more than newsstand ones.

In order to get permission, you make a promise. You say, “I will do x, y and z, I hope you will give me permission by listening.” And then, this is the hard part, that’s all you do. You don’t assume you can do more. You don’t sell the list or rent the list or demand more attention. You can promise a newsletter and talk to me for years, you can promise a daily RSS feed and talk to me every three minutes, you can promise a sales pitch every day (the way Woot does). But the promise is the promise until both sides agree to change it. You don’t assume that just because you’re running for President or coming to the end of the quarter or launching a new product that you have the right to break the deal. You don’t.

Permission doesn’t have to be a one-way broadcast medium. The internet means you can treat different people differently, and it demands that you figure out how to let your permission base choose what they hear and in what format.

When I launched my book that coined this phrase 9 years ago, I offered people a third of the book for free in exchange for an email address. And I never, ever did anything with those addresses again. That wasn’t part of the deal. No follow ups, no new products. A deal’s a deal.

If it sounds like you need humility and patience to do permission marketing, you’re right. That’s why so few companies do it properly. The best shortcut, in this case, is no shortcut at all.