When you know your product or service inside and out, it’s easy to assume your customer needs to know all the things you know.
You remember how much thought went into building it. The useful features feel obvious because you understand why they’re there. And the details that separate it from other options probably feel important too.
So, when it’s time to market it, the natural instinct is to explain all of those things.
There’s just one problem.
Your customer hasn’t decided they care yet.
So rather than simply explain what I mean, I thought I’d show you. Meet PawPlan.
PawPlan is entirely fictional. The marketing problem it demonstrates is very real.
Meet PawPlan
PawPlan is a fictional pet emergency-care system. It gives dog owners one place to organize medications, veterinary information, feeding instructions, emergency contacts, important documents, and other details someone would need if they suddenly had to step in and care for their dog.
There’s nothing inherently wrong with that description. It’s clear, accurate, and tells you exactly what PawPlan does.
So, let’s market it.
Version 1: Explain the product
What do you think?
It looks professional. The information is organized. The benefits are clear. You can see the binder and the app. You know what’s included. There’s even a clear call to action.
Technically, it checks a lot of marketing boxes.
But here’s the more important question:
Did it make you care?
Same product. Different starting point.
Let’s try again.
Nothing about PawPlan needs to change.
Same product.
Same features.
Same customer.
Same problem.
We’re only going to change where the conversation begins.
A car accident.
An unexpected hospital stay.
A last-minute trip out of town.
If you suddenly couldn’t care for your dog… would your go-to person know what to do?
Now PawPlan isn’t asking you to think about PawPlan. It’s asking you to think about your dog.
Maybe you already know exactly who you’d call. But would that person know which medication your dog takes and when? Would they know which veterinarian you use?
Would they know that she won’t eat unless you put a little something special on top of her food? Or that the innocent-looking stuffed toy needs to disappear the second she starts pulling the stuffing out?
Would they know the little things that are completely ordinary to you because you do them every day?
Suddenly, the information in that first flyer feels a little different.
The first flyer assumes you already care.
The second one earns the right for you to care.
The first flyer says:
Here’s everything our product can do.
The second says:
Here’s a situation you may never have considered.
And once you start wondering whether your go-to person really would have everything they needed, something changes. Now you might actually want to know what PawPlan does.
The features haven’t become less important. They’ve become relevant.
That distinction matters because sometimes we’re so eager to explain our solution that we start the conversation several steps ahead of the customer.
We’re ready to explain. They’re still deciding whether this matters to them.
Your marketing doesn’t have to do every job.
There’s another part of this little PawPlan experiment worth mentioning.
Even while creating this fictional example, I caught myself doing exactly what founders do.
The first version of the emotional creative still tried to explain everything. It had the emotional connection, but it also had the features, benefits, product imagery, reassurance, and a call to action.
It was better than the product-first version, but it was still trying too hard. So, I stripped it back.
Because every piece of marketing has one primary job.
For this particular marketing piece, that job isn’t to close the sale. It isn’t even to fully explain PawPlan. Its job is to make the right person stop scrolling long enough to think:
I hadn’t thought about that.
That’s enough.
If they’re curious, they can click. The website can explain the product and build trust. The offer can help them decide whether it’s right for them.
The marketing piece just needs to earn the next step.
Sometimes we market the thing instead of the reason the thing matters.
Last week, I wrote about what happens when founders slowly lose their voice in their marketing.
There’s another way it can happen.
Sometimes we become so close to what we’ve built that we start marketing the thing instead of the reason the thing matters.
A consultant may lead with the framework. A software founder highlights the dashboard. An organizer talks about the system, while a financial professional explains the process and a photographer focuses on the package.
But the person on the other side probably didn’t wake up looking for any of those things.
They woke up with something they want to solve, avoid, understand, protect, or feel differently about.
That’s where the conversation needs to begin.