If you want to sell me something, tell me a story. Tell me a story about this secret. This secret needs to come from a mysterious yet familiar source.
Nazi Secret
Soviet Secret
Confederate Secret. I have yet to experience a sales pitch spawned from a Confederate Secret.
Stonewall Jackson’s Magick Secret of Masculine Potency would be perfect. That name hits both the LGBTQWXYZ market and the suburban dad who binges history conspiracies on Youtube market.
Steal this idea and run with it.
Tell me this secret has been concealed from us for decades.
That is guaranteed to piss me off.
The Government, The Big Corporations, Our Reptilian Overlords have been keeping this secret from us because they don’t want to lose their grip over us.
Free Energy.
Endless wealth. Endless wealth that requires me to perform no task more difficult than reaching for my credit card.
Get me as jacked as that dude in the picture. Without having to break a sweat or eat less.
Tell me those four words I want to hear.
“It’s not your fault.”
I will empty my bank account if you only fill that empty spot in my mind that suspects I might be responsible for my problems.
That’s how to sell me something.
Or you could just describe how your product solves my problem.