The elephant in the room

A couple years back, I was approached to ghost write a book.  It didn’t quite work out the way either of us planned, and so I became the co-author of the book.  It’s a book about the modeling business.

Well, it’s really a marketing book for models.  It’s the same advice I give to a lot of my other clients, couched in terms of the modeling industry, and sprinkled with liberal amounts of  “personality” from my co-author and the star of the show.

The dirty little secret is: I’m re-writing the book for two other industries.  Most of the info will be the same, just immersed in examples from that particular field the book’s targeted toward.

The elephant in the room: first, that I’ve got my name on a book covering an adult – possibly scandalous – topic.  And I’ve written a number of articles to expand on topics I didn’t feel were adequately covered in the book.

The blind men and the elephant.  We’re all familiar with the story of four blind men in a room with an elephant, each trying to guess at the whole by examining only a part with their limited senses.  A snake, for the man holding the trunk.  A boulder for the man feeling the side.  A tree for the man wrapping his arms around the leg.  And a palm frond for the man holding the ear.

In writing books exploring different aspects of marketing for different industries, I’m learning not only about those industries, but more about marketing as a whole.  I’m seeing it from different angles, defining and testing different marketing principles.  I’m practicing what I teach to interns: spend your career trying to prove the experts are wrong.  In doing so, I become a much better advocate for my clients who have no association with the industries in which my books and articles are set.

Expert advice

I was in Okinawa with a karate instructor last year for the Okinawa Karate Invitational Tournament.  Our home (or honbu) dojo is in Okinawa City, and we were training with the head of our organization.

Over a marvelously cold and delicious Orion beer one night, he vented to me that he was ticked at the reaction by several of his American students.  They were thrilled to receive personal corrections by the staff of the honbu dojo, and incorporated those corrections into their techniques immediately.

“These are exactly the same things I’ve been trying to get them to change.  Do they listen to me?  No!  But when they hear it from some Okinawan guy they’ve never seen before, it’s like a commandment from heaven!”

I held my tongue, since I didn’t want it ripped out of my head.  But he was exactly right – that’s what happened.

See, these people had paid thousands of dollars to travel half way ’round the world and mingle with instructors who mythically had karate-do bred into them.  Sage advice from a guy they’d never seen before, speaking an incomprehensible language – they were primed to take this advice! They’d paid for it in cash, in time, in sweat.  They made the modern equivalent of trek through unknown lands and up a forbidding mountain to hear wisdom from a wise man in a cave.

Familiarity breeds contempt.  As true now as it always has been.

If you are hard to get hold of, if you make your followers go through hell, if you charge them an arm and both legs, if they have skin in the game, people will follow your advice.