Some people are naturals.
Taking the tram – again! I know! – a confused 12-year-old was pacing the tram from end to end. Sometimes he’d stop to stare at someone. Not aggressively, but as if unsure whether he knew them. Sometimes he’d stop to check under the seats.
Then more pacing.
This was a boy in urgent need of something he couldn’t find.
But with plenty of attention.
Everybody watched to see what he’d do next (and hope he didn’t do it near them).
You could have flossed your teeth with the tension.
Finally, he spoke.
“I want a beer,” said the 12-year-old.
Well, although he didn’t get one, we can all learn two things from that honest lad.
- What excellent marketing! He didn’t waste time asking everyone individually for a beer. He got our attention, then made his demand once. I expect John D. Rockefeller and Warren Buffett were the same back in the day.
- He knew what he wanted and went for it, regardless of what anyone thought.
Mothers tutted on that tram, but he didn’t care. He wanted beer, and they weren’t his target audience.
When it comes to books, I’m all over lesson 2.
If I wanted prizes and respect, I’d write dismal tomes about people contemplating death and divorce.
But I want silly books, so that’s what I’m writing, tutting mothers be damned!
All I’m missing is a soupçon of that 12-year-old marketing genius’ chutzpah to help me sell them.
Or Professor de Glube’s determination.
In The Forgotten Creatures, he only wants two things.
Marry Mrs Sniffacre, and dig up the massive catapult buried in the graveyard for some strange reason.
Chat soon,
Morgan
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