Michelle: Alright Mark, pop quiz. You're pitching a revolutionary new app to a stone-faced investor. What's your opening line? Mark: Uh... 'Please give me money?' No, wait. 'My innovative, synergistic platform will disrupt the paradigm...' I sound like a robot, don't I? Michelle: Exactly. And that's why we're talking about Pitch Like Hollywood today. Because what if your pitch felt less like a robot and more like... The Godfather? Mark: I'm listening. An offer I can't refuse? I'm not sure my boss would go for that, but I'm intrigued. What does Hollywood have to teach me about my boring quarterly reports? Michelle: That's the perfect question. Today we're diving into Pitch Like Hollywood by Peter Desberg and Jeffrey Davis. And what's so brilliant about this is the authors themselves. Desberg is a clinical psychologist who has consulted for giants like Boeing and Apple, and Davis is a veteran screenwriter and professor. Mark: Hold on, a psychologist and a screenwriter? That’s an odd couple. Michelle: It’s the perfect couple! You're getting this incredible blend of hard science on persuasion and anxiety, mixed with the raw, high-stakes storytelling craft of the film industry. The book is widely acclaimed by professionals precisely because it's not just theory; it's a practical playbook for anyone who has to convince anyone of anything.

Michelle: And it all starts with your question about boring reports. The book's first big idea is that you need to stop 'selling' and start 'telling.' You need to transform that data into a story. Mark: A story. That sounds a bit fluffy for a VC meeting. What does that even mean in practice? Are we talking 'once upon a time'? Michelle: Not quite. It's about understanding that pitching is a performance, and it's often completely unpredictable. The book opens with this incredible story from producer Larry Brezner. He's in a meeting with a major studio head, Toby Emmerich, pitching a movie. Mark: Okay, classic Hollywood scene. I'm picturing a tense boardroom. Michelle: Right. But halfway through the pitch, Emmerich's phone rings. He has to take it, but he points to his giant German Shepherd lying on the floor and says, "Just pitch the dog. He gets it." Mark: Come on. He did not. Michelle: He did. So Brezner and his writing partner are left in this room, alone with a dog, wondering if there's a hidden camera. After a moment, the writer just goes, "F-ck it. Let's sell the dog." And for ten minutes, they pitch their entire movie to this blankly staring German Shepherd. Mark: This is the most Hollywood story I've ever heard. What happened? Michelle: Emmerich comes back in, asks how it went, and then says, "He liked it. I'll buy it." And he did. The movie eventually became Ride Along with Ice Cube and Kevin Hart. Mark: They pitched a movie to a dog... and it worked? That's insane. But how does that translate to a normal business setting where there are, presumably, no dogs to pitch to? Michelle: The point is that you have to be able to 'roll with it.' And the best way to do that, to keep control when things get weird, is to have a solid story structure. The book argues that every great pitch, whether for a movie or a new software, follows a classic three-act structure. Mark: Okay, now you're speaking my language. I know three-act structures from movies. Michelle: Exactly. The book uses a great example of a fictional app pitch called 'Nutritious N Delicious.' Act I isn't about the app; it's about the problem. It introduces the characters: a nutritionist, a chef, and a computer scientist. They're frustrated by the universal conflict: food is either delicious but unhealthy, or healthy but tastes like cardboard. Mark: I know that conflict intimately. My lunch is a daily tragedy. Michelle: Right? That's the setup. Act II is the rising action. They describe their struggle: trying existing diet apps, failing, getting frustrated. They show the audience all the failed attempts to solve this problem. This builds tension. Mark: So you're showing the dragon before you introduce the knight. Michelle: Perfectly put. Then, Act III is the resolution. They present their app as the elegant solution that finally cracks the code. It’s the climax of the story. They're not just listing features; they're resolving the conflict they established in Act I. Mark: Okay, so the hook is the movie poster, the logline is the trailer, and the three acts are the movie itself. I can work with that. But what if the 'audience'—my boss—is just not in the mood for a story? What if they just want the numbers? Michelle: That's when you have to remember that your boss, that investor, that client… they aren't a computer. They're a human. And that's where the psychologist half of this book takes over.

Michelle: It's not just about the story you tell; it's about understanding the brain of the person you're telling it to. The book calls them 'the catcher.' And the catcher's brain is a messy, biased, emotional machine. Mark: Tell me about it. I've seen some messy brains in meetings. Michelle: The book explains that we're persuaded through two different routes. There's the Central Route, which is logical, analytical, and data-driven. That's what we think is happening in a pitch. But more often, we're persuaded by the Peripheral Route, which is all about cues, feelings, and mental shortcuts. Mark: What kind of cues are we talking about? Michelle: It can be almost anything. The book cites this wild experiment where evaluators were given job applications on clipboards. Some clipboards were heavy, some were light. The resumes on the heavier clipboards were consistently rated as being from more serious, competent candidates. Mark: You're telling me the physical weight of my proposal could matter more than the numbers inside it? That's terrifying and... incredibly useful. Michelle: It's the peripheral route in action! Your brain takes a shortcut: heavy equals important. It’s not logical, but it’s how we’re wired. The book is full of these insights. Another key idea is likability. We are just more likely to say yes to people we like. It's why a little self-deprecating humor can be so powerful. It makes you seem humble and relatable. Mark: I'm pretty sure I've been that arrogant guy in a pitch before. The one who thinks his idea is so good it doesn't matter if he's a jerk. Michelle: We've all seen that guy. And he rarely gets the deal. The book tells a great story about Robert Rodriguez pitching Spy Kids. The executive said the idea wasn't new, but Rodriguez came in "super excited, super ambitious, but also unexpectedly humble." She even coined a word for it: 'humbitious.' Mark: Humbitious. I like that. Confident but not arrogant. Michelle: Exactly. And this all ties into one of the best case studies in the book: the "Luxury is a Lie" campaign for Audi. Mark: Oh, I remember that. That was a bold slogan. Michelle: It was. And the ad agency, Designory, won the account with that hook. They understood that in the wake of the 2008 financial crisis, people didn't want to feel like they were buying an obnoxious status symbol. They wanted to feel smart. Mark: So the pitch wasn't about horsepower or leather seats. Michelle: No, that's the Central Route. The pitch was about identity. It was Peripheral. It said, "Buying an Audi isn't about showing off. It's a progressive, intelligent choice. You're not buying status; you're buying smart luxury." They sold a feeling, an identity. Mark: That makes so much sense. You're not buying a car; you're buying an identity for yourself. And the best pitches sell an identity for the idea. It makes the 'catcher' feel smart for agreeing with you. Michelle: Precisely. You're making it easy for their brain to say yes. But of course, none of this matters if you're so terrified you can't even speak.

Mark: This all sounds great, but my biggest problem isn't the structure or the psychology. It's the sheer terror. My hands get sweaty, my mind goes blank. How does Hollywood deal with that? Michelle: The book dedicates a huge section to this, because it's the most common hurdle. It starts with Jerry Seinfeld's famous observation: the average person at a funeral would rather be in the coffin than giving the eulogy. Mark: I can relate. I'd definitely take the coffin. Michelle: It's a real, biological response. The book calls it the "Pitch Panic Cycle." Your brain perceives the high-stakes pitch as a life-or-death threat, like a saber-toothed tiger. It floods your body with adrenaline for 'fight-or-flight,' but you can't fight or flee your PowerPoint presentation. So that energy just turns into a racing heart, shaky hands, and a mind that goes completely blank. Mark: That is a perfect description of my last performance review. My brain just... shut down. Michelle: And that's the cycle. You make a negative prediction: "I'm going to bomb." That triggers anxiety. You feel the anxiety—the shaky voice—and take it as evidence that you're bombing. This makes you more anxious, and eventually, you make a mistake, which confirms your original prediction. It's a vicious loop. Mark: Okay, you've diagnosed my nightmare. How do I escape the loop? Michelle: This is where the book offers one of its most powerful and counter-intuitive ideas: cognitive relabeling. It's about changing the story you tell yourself about your anxiety. Michelle: They did this incredible experiment with students who were nervous about taking the GRE, the big grad school exam. They split them into two groups. The control group was told nothing. The experimental group was told something simple: "Research shows that people who feel anxious before a test actually perform better. That feeling is your body getting ready for a challenge." Mark: So they just reframed the anxiety as a good thing? Michelle: Exactly. They gave them a different story for their physical symptoms. And the results were stunning. The group that relabeled their anxiety scored, on average, 60 points higher on the math section. Mark: Whoa. So instead of fighting the anxiety, you just... rename it? 'I'm not terrified, I'm excited.' 'My heart isn't pounding from fear, it's pounding to give me more energy.' That's a game-changer. It's like a Jedi mind trick on yourself. Michelle: It is! Because your body's response to fear and excitement is almost identical. The only difference is the story you attach to it. The book argues that seasoned performers, the ones who look so calm on stage, aren't anxiety-free. They've just learned to interpret that energy as excitement, not terror. Mark: That's honestly the most hopeful thing I've heard about public speaking. It’s not about eliminating fear, but about befriending it.

Michelle: And that's the beautiful trifecta of this book, isn't it? You use the Hollywood structure to build a compelling story, you use psychology to make that story land with the 'catcher's' brain, and you use cognitive tricks to manage your own brain so you can actually deliver it. It's a full-stack approach to persuasion. Mark: It really is. It takes pitching from this terrifying, abstract art form and turns it into a concrete set of skills you can actually learn and practice. It’s about structure, psychology, and self-management. Michelle: The authors' backgrounds really shine through. It’s the perfect marriage of art and science. You get the screenwriter's toolkit for crafting a narrative and the psychologist's manual for understanding the human element. Mark: So the one thing to try this week, for anyone listening, is to take your next presentation—no matter how small—and find the three acts. Don't just list the bullet points. What's the problem? What's the struggle? And what's your heroic solution? Don't just present the data; tell the story behind it. Michelle: I love that. And remember that the person you're pitching to is just that—a person. They're not a logic machine. They're a 'catcher' who wants to be engaged, who wants to feel something, and who is probably more persuaded by a good story than a perfect spreadsheet. Mark: And if all else fails, find a dog to pitch to. Apparently, it works. Michelle: We'd love to hear your own pitching war stories. What's the craziest thing that's ever happened to you in a pitch? Find us on our socials and share. We're all in this together. Michelle: This is Aibrary, signing off.