In the Grimm Brothers version of the Cinderella story, one of the wicked and vain stepsisters – let’s call her Charise – claimed that she was the rightful wearer of the glass slipper. Only problem? Her feet were too big.

No problemo, says Wicked Stepmother. Out comes the kitchen knife, slicey slicey off goes Charise’s big toe, and voila! the shoe fits. The Prince escorts the stepsister off to the palace, until birds alert him that her shoe is filling up with blood. Then the birds peck out her eyes. (You don’t remember this part? My copy had some disturbing illustrations.)

Completely undeterred by her sister wandering as a blind and limping beggar, the other wicked stepsister  – Jessamine – claims the slipper. Her foot is also a bit too big: slicey slicey, off with her heel. It works out exactly the same way, because the prince is clearly not that bright. Shoe fills with blood, birds sound the alert then peck out her eyes. Jessamine goes to join her sister in pain and obscurity.

The moral of the story

Like many fairytales, this makes more sense as an analogy than as a story. So let’s make the moral about positioning.

It’s easy to understand the desire to jam that glass slipper on your foot. The rewards are massive: money, adoration, power, (dim-witted) admirers… if you can wear the slipper you can have them all.

But we forget that the slippers were made for Cinderella . Made with magic! They’re a custom-fit solution that we can’t use without sacrificing parts of ourselves.

We also forget that the big prizes go to the first one through the palace gates. Even if the slipper fits you perfectly… there’s only one prince, and Cinderella’s already nabbed him. You might get a slightly warty baron, but that’s all.

When we forget these two things, we get blinded. And we hurt ourselves, and allow others to shape us to fit someone else’s path to success.

But what if…

Charise and Jessamine, horrified by the idea of slicing themselves into a dodgy version of someone else, decided to be themselves. They started a marvellously bitchy website commenting on how fantastic they look and how sooty the new princess is and oh my GAWD did you see what the High Duchess of Grabavia was wearing to the coronation? It’s the sixteenth century, hellllloooo.

All those who were tired of Princess Cinderella and Her Attack Birds of Death, or looking for the latest goss on The Least Observant Prince in History, flock (PUN) to the website. Soon Charise and Jessamine are rolling in admirers, money, and high-end gift bags. The End.

Charise and Jessamine could own that story in a way that they couldn’t own the Path to Princessdom. It allows them – requires them – to use their natural gifts, their voices, and their totally wicked hairstyles. And it rewards them accordingly.

So the moral of the story is this:

You can’t fit someone else’s slipper. Find your own.

Have you lost touch with your own glass slipper and started eyeing off your sooty stepsister and her shiny feet? Together, we can uncover what you need in Goddamn Radiant, the three-hour marketing transformation.

photo credit: kevindooley

Yep, demographics suck ass.

You know why?

Demographics are boring.

No-one thinks to themselves, “I’m a 25- to 35-year-old woman on more than $45,000 a year. What kind of bicycle would someone like me buy?”

That’s not how we identify ourselves. We think of ourselves as sporty, or well-read, or blunt, or trendy, or common-sensical. It’s easy to know what kind of bike you need if you’re sporty and pro-engineering: a carbon-frame, 28-gear, NASA-designed one. And it’s easy to know what kind of bike you need if you’re a well-read hipster: a powder-blue retro three-gear bike with whitewall tyres.

This leads to the second problem:

Demographics don’t help you market.

Sporty Cyclist and Hipster Cyclist are in the same demographic, but they sure don’t respond the same way. Sporty wants autumn colour schemes, earthy word choice, and all of the technical specs… to feel the power and precision of a beautifully-designed machine working the way it was intended to. Hipster wants bright jewel tones, ironic word choice, and the feeling of admiration on the faces of the others at the café.

Please explain to me how you can produce anything that will really excite both groups, and I will give you a cookie.

In fact, demographics lead to lazy marketing.

When you market to demographics, you market to stereotypes: Busy Businessman. Caring Mother. The Chick. The Twennysomething Guy.

It’s as much miss as hit, it’s often infuriating to the people who don’t fit the stereotype, and worst of all… it’s completely forgettable. Everyone else is already using those stereotypes. Even the few people who fit perfectly into the group find the marketing uninspiring.

So what do you do instead?

Identifying your Bestest People makes all the difference in the world. Your marketing, business structure, writing, and attitude improved a zillion times when you nail your definition of your Bestest People; I’ve seen it happen over and over with my clients. (and with my business, too.)

How do you do it?

Well, that’s a big process, which is why I have offerings like DIY Magnificence and Goddamn Radiant to help people answer it.

But there is an exercise that might help if you’re stuck in Demographics Land.

Try that out, and never, ever fall for demographics again.

photo credit: jurvetson

These are jelly snakes from the Natural Confectionery Company: one of my most favourite lollies.

Except for the yellow ones. I’m not a huge fan of the yellow ones.

So when I have a packet of these delightful sweets in front of me and you saunter up and ask for one, guess which kind I offer first?

You still get a lolly snake, right?

So you’re ahead of the game there. But you’re probably not thinking, “Wow, that Catherine sure is the nicest person ever,” are you? Human nature being what it is, the thought is more likely, “Oh. Wow. Thanks.” (That was, like, sarcastic.)

However, if I handed over one of the precious orange ones – and we both know they’re the best flavour – then you’d be surprised and gratified. And grateful. It would leave a good taste in your mouth not solely due to the tasty sweet. And a fond feeling for me and my generosity.

But in both cases I gave you something you didn’t have.

So in both cases the logical response should be to be grateful.

We don’t compute like that.

It’s important to us that you value the thing you’re giving away. Last year’s remnants might be wonderful and just what I need… but I’ll still be less grateful for them than if you gave me something that you could still sell. Something that requires a small amount of sacrifice. Something that matters to you.

Because one of the cues on how much we value something comes from other people. And if you, the owner/creator/lolly holder, don’t value the thing you’re giving away… then why should we?

So when you’re in giveaway mode…

… you have three options.

1. Fling away the things you don’t value.

You don’t care, you just want them gone. Put them out the front with a sign saying, “Free”. Give them anonymously to charity. Offer them like the last yellow snakes. It’s all about you, getting rid of things you really don’t want around anymore.

2. Gently offer the things you don’t value.

Knowing that one person’s yellow snakes are another one’s orange, you do your best to make the value clear without lying your ass off. You make it easy for other people to enjoy the things that just don’t do it for you.

3. Give away the things you really value.

You have a competition with the newest model as a prize. Offer your time with the package. Give away something you personally covet. Offer for free something you could make a tidy profit on. Make a free resource of your best information.

The third one hurts a bit. It requires us to push past our natural self-interest and give up something we’d rather keep.

That’s why it’s the one that really works when you’re generosity marketing.

Are you giving away your leftovers or your favourites?

My favourite giveaway is the Choose Your Own Business Adventure. It’s free, and it is FAB.