Recognizing the Line Between Marketing and Selling
And knowing when it's time to actively invite your clients to work with you
This is the fourth in a series on selling.
Most small businesspeople — book coaches among them — understand the assignment when it comes to marketing. Marketing is about letting your ideal clients know you exist, letting them know what you can do to help them, and inviting them to learn more about how you do it.
When we can frame marketing as being generous and being of service to our potential future clients — by, for example, participating in a summit, giving a webinar, or making a sweet lead magnet to help them with some aspect of their writing — most of us can come to peace with this aspect of the work and learn to do it well and even with joy.
Selling, however, tends to make us so uncomfortable that we often just freeze up. We hate telling people what we charge, asking them if they want to work with us, and following up. I think it helps to know when you’ve stopped marketing and started selling — to recognize the line. To help with this, I wanted to share a story about a tailor.
The Stitch Witch
I had some clothes in need of repair, and I remembered my friend Leslie talking about a great experience she had with a tailor. I had recently gone to a different tailor and didn’t want to go back — I felt rushed, the whole thing was awkward, and I ended up not loving the end result. What stuck in my mind about Leslie’s experience is that the tailor she went to had been impressed with the quality of the craftsmanship of the dress he had brought in for alterations.
Leslie purchased this dress (yellow, brocade, very Jackie O) at a consignment store and it had no label. But the Stitch Witch — this is what the tailor calls herself — took the time to point out to Leslie the hand-sewn details and the masterful work on the seams inside the dress. The Stitch Witch delighted in seeing the genius of some other unknown seamstress and there was something about the appreciation for craftsmanship that stayed with me.
I asked Leslie for her name.
👆All of that is marketing. So there are three things happening there:
Excellent work. Leslie only told me about the exchange with the tailor because the work she had done on the dress was incredible and Leslie wore that dress to a family wedding and felt amazing in it.
A story about what the tailor values — including craftsmanship and also relationships. She took the time to show Leslie something interesting/valuable about her dress, to make her feel good about her purchase, to connect with her.
Word of mouth. I remembered the story and filed it away in my brain. Months later, when I needed a tailor, I immediately knew who to ask — and why I was asking.
The Stitch Witch had almost no information on her website — no pricing, no testimonials. I found this irritating, as it is the kind of information that always helps me trust someone. I almost walked away, but on the strength of Leslie’s recommendation, I decided to take the next step, which was to text the tailor.
I wrote:
Hi. My friend Leslie XXXXXX recommended you to me and I’d like to make an appointment for some alterations.
She wrote:
Hi, what’s your name?
This cracked me up. I had forgotten to introduce myself and The Stitch Witch was clearly not going to have a conversation with just anyone. So I told her my name. She then said this:
I can see you Friday at 12
👆All of that is marketing, too. The way the tailor chooses to communicate, her style of communication, and the fact that there is no Calendly link and there is no back-and- forth about when might be a good time for me. It’s just — here is the offer, here is what I do.
In this whole exchange, she is letting me know who she is and how she works. She is making me aware of her vibe and her process. I am beginning to fall under her spell, because I can tell that she does not suffer fools — something I tend to love in a service provider.
I want someone who knows what they are doing, who will tell me how it is, who will bring their expertise to whatever challenge I am trying to solve. I can’t sew — and the pair of pants I wanted to alter was going to be somewhat complicated. I wanted someone who knew what they were doing.
So we’re starting to cross the line into sales — into my being ready and willing to give the tailor my money — but we’re not fully across it yet.
For a book coach, this shift into sales is going to happen in the exact same place: when someone has decided to contact you, when they have decided you might be able to help them with the book they are writing, when they have made the decision to take whatever next step you have offered them — which is likely a discovery call or some small interaction or service where you are face-to-face with them and their work.
The Path To The Stitch Witch’s Studio
Once I agreed to the time, I was given directions to the studio — open the gate, behind the house, turn left, go past the big oak tree. I was told not to forget to bring the undergarments and shoes I would wear with the pants.
I arrived on time — you best believe I was not going to be late.
I walked past dozens of old black sewing machines that lined the garden path and down a dank path under a low-hanging tree and into a converted garage that looked like something out of a movie about someone who was slightly unhinged: a hundred scissors on one wall, a hundred colors of thread in no discernable order, piles of every kind of clothing everywhere (jeans and coats and suits and fancy dresses). The Stitch Witch was wearing sweatpants and a tank top and a lot of jewelry I got the feeling never came off. She had large, dramatic tattoos up and down both arms — mythical beasts? Maybe there were actual witches? I thought it would be rude to stare.
She asked me to show her what I needed done.
I showed her a midi skirt I was tired of that I thought hemming shorter might revive and I wanted to know her opinion. She said, “Don’t do it. It’s a bit faded. The fabric is a little pilled. Get rid of it.”
👆This is sales. This is an expert showing me that she has opinions, and showing me that she’s not going to b.s. me just to take my money. This is The Stitch Witch preparing me for what’s going to happen when she can help me:no b.s.
I showed her a pair of pants with pockets I wanted removed. “That’s a simple job,” she said, “That will be $30. And I won’t be able to do it for two weeks.” She pointed to a table piled with clothes. “All of that is what came in just this morning.”
👆This is sales. She is telling me the price. She is telling me the time. She is telling me that she’s in demand. She is invited me to say yes. I thought $30 was a lot just to remove two pockets from a loose pair of pants and sew up the seam — but I was already convinced I was going to do it. I liked her directness and the sense of expertise she exuded — it’s something you can’t fake.
And I couldn’t help myself. I am in the business of helping people build businesses. I am an evangelist for people being paid well for doing good work. So even though I thought $30 was high, I said, “If you are getting that much business, it sounds like you should raise your prices.”
She laughed. “I literally just did. Yesterday!”
At this point, she told me about her business coach. The Stitch Witch has a business coach! So we chatted about business — hers and mine. We chatted about what she loves to do versus what she doesn’t love to do. (Zone of Genius y’all!) We chatted about whether or not I thought the price was too high — she was not apologetic; she was curious. “I’m happy to pay it,” I said, “And I would be happy to pay a few dollars more if you raise your rates.”
I showed her the last item — an expensive pair of black pants with a fitted waist that needed to be taken in. “This will be complicated,” she explained, “and it might not come out well. Can you return them? Get the size down?”
I told her that everything else about the pants was perfect. She instructed me to put them on and when I came out and stood in front of her mirror, she said, “Yes, you’re right, these are great pants. This fabric is beautiful. These are the right size. I will open up that waistband and see what’s inside. If I think I can do it, I’ll do it and it will be $80. If I can’t, I will sew them back up and charge you nothing and you’ll have to look for another pair of pants. Do you want to go ahead?”
👆This is sales. The Stitch Witch was making me an offer to work with her. She was setting expectations. She was citing a price that would make my already expensive pants even more expensive. In my mind (and before the pocket job), I thought the waist alteration would be closer to $30. But I had just told this woman to raise her prices. I had to accept that this was the cost of my getting what I wanted from someone I thought could do an excellent job.
I said yes. Sale complete.
Take My Money
I put the tired skirt in fabric recycling.
The pants were both ready four days before The Stitch Witch promised. And the alterations were both perfectly done. I happily paid my money.
And I asked whether or not she would be able to fix too-short sleeves on jackets. Every jacket I look at these days has sleeves that are at least four inches too long for me.
“It depends,” she said, and explained what kinds of seams and styling to look for. “Text me when you’re trying something on. I’ll let you know if I can fix the sleeves or not.”
👆This is marketing. She is letting me know what she can do for me, how she can help. She is explaining her services and showing — once again — how she works and what she cares about.
I will no doubt be telling my other friends about The Stitch Witch, which is marketing, too.