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That love leads to traction, and to attitudes and choices that become part of their identity.Īnd it certainly shapes the storyline you share. The goal of the smallest viable audience is to find people who will understand you and will fall in love with where you hope to take them.

Who is most willing to pay me for the change I’m promoting?.

Who is in the greatest need of our idea?.

If I could only change 30 people, who would be the ideal customers for my product or service?.

What is the smallest market my business can survive on?.

To force your micro-focus, ask yourself questions like:

Paranoid Paula, who’s suspicious of the cab driver, is convinced she’s getting ripped off by the desk clerk, and would never drink out of a hotel minibar.

Hurried Harry, who’s always looking for a shortcut and is rarely willing to wait in line, read directions, or weigh complex decisions.

Bargain Bill, who’s playing a sport when he shops, while simultaneously wrestling with his internal narrative about money.

If you have to choose 500 people to become your true fans, who should you choose? By selecting people based on their needs and dreams, you can group people based on psychographs instead of demographics. To do this well, you need to continually ask yourself, “who’s it for?” This simple question can guide the product you make, the story you tell, and where you share. Whether you’re trying to get people to vote or buy your environmentally-friendly fertilizer, your goal is to grab attention and make people respond.

If you are a marketer, you’re in the business of making things happen. I loved you enough to accept you for what you are, and not what I wanted you to be.īut most of all, I loved you enough to say no when you hated me for it. I loved you enough to shove you off my lap, let go of your hand, be mute to your pleas and insensitive to your demands. I loved you enough to figure you would lie about the party being chaperoned, but forgave you for it. I loved you enough to let you assume the responsibility for your own actions, at six, 10, or 16. I loved you enough to let you stumble, fall, hurt, and fail. I loved you enough to ignore “what every other mother” did or said. I loved you enough to admit that I was wrong and ask for your forgiveness. I loved you enough not to make excuses for your lack of respect or your bad manners. I loved you enough to let you see anger, disappointment, disgust, and tears in my eyes. I loved you enough to say, “Yes, you can go to Disney World on Mother’s Day.” I loved you enough to stand over you for two hours while you cleaned your bedroom, a job that would have taken me 15 minutes. I loved you enough to be silent and let you discover your hand-picked friend was a creep.

I loved you enough to insist you buy a bike with your own money, which we could afford, and you couldn’t. I loved you enough to bug you about where you were going, with whom, and what time you would get home. Someday, when my children are old enough to understand the logic that motivates a mother, I’ll tell them. For all the parents out there, here is an oldie but a goodie from Erma Bombeck, published in 1975: