Lesson Nine:

Bringing It All Together

Worked examples that put our ideas to work

Combining all the things we’ve talked about is the key to really improving your writing.

We’ve covered a lot of ground, so let’s put some of our ideas into practice with three worked examples that focus on writing for digital, brand storytelling, and packaging copy.

We’ve picked these particular projects, not because they’re super-sexy or hyper-slick but because they’re the sort of thing brand copywriters do everyday. Nor have we exhaustively explained every choice or decision; by necessity, what follows focuses on just a part of each project. Our aim is to give an insight into an approach, not explain how every sentence came to be.

For the rest of this lesson we’ll swap into the first person and let Roger provide a running commentary, as if you were looking over his shoulder. What actually goes on inside someone’s head as they tap away is hard —perhaps impossible—to capture. That said, we’ve tried to describe the writing process as closely as we can, short of sawing the top off Roger’s head so you can peek inside (not recommended, either for him or you).

Writing for digital

Despite what they tell you, digital ain’t that different. When writing for the Web I tend to do everything I do for print, only more so. Online or offline, my readers are the same human beings, motivated by the same things and seeking the same outcomes. It’s true that taking advantage of digital to deliver full-on, multichannel experiences requires a different approach, but that’s not our focus here.¹

There’s a school of thought that says writing for digital is a discipline apart, with rules and techniques all its own; we’re not so sure. We don’t mean that digital isn’t important— clearly it’s absolutely fundamental to how the world works and will only become more so— but rather that as far as brand-orientated copywriting is concerned, the changes that digital has ushered in are rather less seismic than some commentators would have you believe. Before we’re run out of town by an angry mob armed with pitchforks and blazing torches, allow us to explain.

Throughout this book we’ve emphasized principles over techniques. That’s because a principle is long-term while a technique is temporary.² By acquiring a solid grasp of the fundamentals you’ll be kitted out to create channel-agnostic, media-neutral communications that work equally well on- and offline. Stickiness, stories, audience empathy, figures of speech, and so on are all examples of principle-based advice that will stand you in good stead throughout your career.

That said, we think there are three digital specialisms—information architecture, user-centric design, and content strategy—that any copywriter who chooses to specialize in online comms would do well to know.

Information architecture (or IA) is the science of effective organization. It’s about helping audiences find what they’re looking for quickly and easily by structuring information in a way that’s useful and intuitive. A decent grasp of IA is important for two reasons: It’ll enable you to talk on equal terms with others within a digital team/agency, and many of IA’s lessons work equally well in the offline world. You don’t need to become an expert but you do need to know the main points.

User-centric design is the philosophy and practice of putting humans at the heart of a digital experience. It’s a “people first” approach that says the wants and needs of the audience, and not aesthetic or technical considerations, should dictate a website or app’s look and feel. The award-winning website for the UK government—www.gov.uk—is a master class in user-centric copywriting and is almost shocking in its clarity and brevity.³ Orwell would love it.

Another important area is content strategy (or CS). This—you’ll be dumbfounded to hear —concerns an organization’s strategy for its content; in other words, what they choose to say, and how and where they choose to say it. Sounds familiar? It should, because that’s a key concern for all effective copywriting. Having an appropriate, effective content strategy matters for every organization and for every channel—it’s just that the offline world doesn’t make a song and dance about it.

Our point is that while IA, user-centric design, and CS are important principles within the digital realm, they’re important principles in every domain. As we’ve said elsewhere in this book, it’s remarkable how often an idea from one discipline can solve a seemingly intractable problem in another. It’s beyond the scope of Read Me to delve any deeper into these three fascinating areas, but if you’re interested in writing for digital we strongly recommend you familiarize yourself with all three.

A website that goes for growth

Today I’m writing a website for a boutique branddesign agency called The Allotment. I’ve already received an e-mail outlining what the site should say, along with a site map showing all the pages they need, and some rough designs that give me an approximate word count for body copy and headings. My job is to take all this and turn the blocks of placeholder lorem ipsum⁴ on the page roughs into something special.

As always, I need to get a good feel for content, audience, and tone. In this case, content is straightforward—it needs to build on the raw material I received in my briefing e-mail. Audience isn’t too tricky either—the main people this needs to reach are potential clients. With that in mind, I speak to my contact at The Allotment and we agree the tone needs to be positive, businesslike ,and intelligent, with room for the occasional creative flourish if the subject supports it.

So, content identified, audience clear, tone decided— time to get going.

I begin with the homepage (that’s not always the case —often I find it easier to start elsewhere and do the homepage last, once I’ve got a good idea of what I want to say and how I should be saying it). After a couple of false starts, hammered out with all the finesse of a drunken blacksmith, I arrive at:

We’re a London-based design and branding business driven by our love for creating brilliant, compelling work that’s impossible to ignore.

It’s simple, clear, and direct. The subtle alliteration of b (“branding,” “business,” “brilliant”), c (“creating,” “compelling”), d (“design,” “driven”), and i (“impossible,” “ignore”) sounds gives this version a quiet musicality. I’ll go with that for now.

Next I address the idea of growth. I try some wordplay about green fingers and not letting the grass grow under your feet, but it’s too much too soon. I realize I’m better off playing it pretty straight at this point:

We’re obsessed (in a good way) with helping our clients grow. That means finding persuasive big ideas that connect with people and help build deeper, more satisfying relationships.

The main thing the homepage has to do is pique people’s interest just enough to get them to keep reading. So in a new paragraph I write:

To find out how we work please read the six themes below explaining how we can help you grow. They work equally well individually or as a set.

OK, that’s five sentences totalling 78 words—plenty for the homepage. I’ll sleep on what I’ve just done and instead turn my attention to the six theme pages, all of which build on the idea of growth.

The first needs to focus on how The Allotment can help clients understand the real problem their brand needs to confront. Three sentences should do it:

Note the references to “digging” and “unearthing.” I want people to get the whole allotment/garden/growth thing (building on their lovely flowerpot/inverted A logo), so I have to spell it out but without overdoing it. Knowing how far to push a metaphor is never easy but this feels about right.

Next I want to make clear the importance of a single, strong idea and how The Allotment can help clients clarify the thinking behind just such an idea. I decide to tell it straight.

Then it’s on to how The Allotment can help clients create difference. The mention of muddy boots is a nod to The Allotment’s recurrent theme of all things gardening and growth. It’s also an orientation sentence that says, “So far we’ve talked about X, now let’s talk about Y.” At 95 words this is the longest page here, but as someone far wiser than I once remarked, “It’s not how long you make it, it’s how you make it long.”

Next I’m onto growing trust. Halfway through I’ve woven in a reworking of a classic line by Bill Bernbach: “I’ve got a great gimmick—let’s tell the truth,” while the last sentence has a nice internal symmetry to it and sums up The Allotment’s offer in a memorable way.

After that I look at the theme of communities and, finally, futures.

That’s the six main points of The Allotment’s offer covered and the backbone of their site in place—let’s call that mission accomplished for now.

I think there are a couple of useful lessons here. When you’re writing (or indeed rewriting), perhaps the simplest way to get everything clear in your head is to ask, “How would I say this in speech?” as that’s probably how you should say it in writing.

There’s also the issue of how far to push a metaphor before it becomes too obvious. There’s no hard-andfast rule; you just need to be sensitive to how the copy feels as it’s shaping up onscreen. If in doubt err on the side of caution—overdoing it can seem as though you don’t trust the reader to get it.

Finally, when it comes to digital, less really is more— keep your word counts low. Main Web pages containing hundreds of words are just asking to be ignored.

Brand storytelling

We’re all suckers for a good story—it’s just how we’re made. As US author Jonathan Gottschall puts it, “The human mind yields helplessly to the suction of story. No matter how deep we dig in our heels, we just can’t resist their gravity.” Here’s one way to exploit that pull.

A telling tale

I’m writing copy aimed at the marketing and communications teams of large companies. My job is to interest them in specially commissioned social-media research produced by my client Radley Yeldar, one of London’s leading communications agencies (hereafter referred to as RY). My copy will be used online and offline in media ranging from a printed brochure to a large and rather prestigious presentation event.

I need a plan, and as always that plan needs to be based on a solid understanding of who my audience are, what they want to hear, and how best to say it.

To get started I listen back to my recording of the briefing session and scribble down the main points I need to cover:

•The last few years have been marred by all manner of scandal and calamities

•Faith in institutions both public and private is at an all-time low

•Social media means savvy businesses can strike up a conversation with stakeholders and rebuild trust

•Despite this, many companies are wary of giving up control of their carefully stage-managed communications

•On the other hand, social media is here to stay and people will use it to discuss their brand whether they like it or not, so…

•Wouldn’t it be sensible to make a virtue of necessity and embrace social media?

OK, so far I’ve built up a decent picture of who I’m speaking to and what I need to say. The question now is how should I say it?

I could play it straight and turn the bulleted list you’ve just read into prose paragraphs. That would work, but the line of thinking behind my brief is rich and evocative —is there a better way with a bit more appeal?

As I listen back to my recording I hear the project leader suggest I try something based on the theme of superheroes. Hmmm. Given that the report will be called “Release the Power of Social Media,” could each of the five main social-media channels it mentions become a different superhero? Indeed they could. And if that’s the case, could I use a story to set the scene and create a wave of interest that would carry readers through the rest of the report? Indeed I could.

Armed with an understanding of my audience, my content, and my tone, it’s time to get busy.

Superheroes traditionally appear in the hour of greatest need, so my opening line should capture that state of confusion. Thinking about Dark Knights and Caped Crusaders I type:

It was a dark day in Gotham.

Hold on, can’t say Gotham—too Batman-specific—so let’s make it:

It was a dark day in the city.

Now I need to paint a picture of distrust and desperation. To do this I flesh out the frame of the argument I jotted down earlier. What emerges is an extended metaphor that combines real-world events with the type of situation common to the opening of superhero stories.

If that’s not a situation ripe for heroic intervention I don’t know what is. It’s also instantly recognizable to anyone who hasn’t been living in a cave for the last decade (an important point—for an extended metaphor to work, your audience need to recognize what you’re talking about). Based on my plan the next paragraph almost writes itself (see right top).

OK, I’ve set the scene; now I need to spell out the ambivalence, or even antagonism, some businesses feel toward social media. It’s not that they dislike these channels per se—they don’t; it’s simply that Twitter, Facebook and so on give ordinary mortals the power to talk back to corporations and reach a huge audience as they do it. At the time of writing some businesses find this an unsettling prospect. That’s where the project leader’s comment really comes into its own and the whole approach starts to make sense (see right bottom).

Next I need to make clear that social-media-enabled dialogue has much to offer forward-thinking businesses and that a meeting of minds is in everyone’s interests. All the time I’m trying to get my readers to identify with the points raised in the story, something like, “Yes, yes, I’m feeling that, I better keep reading to see what happens.” See opposite top left for how I play it:

The next couple of spreads are important, as it’s here I make the case for corporations to really embrace social media. By presenting this information in narrative form I can say things in a way that I couldn’t quite get away with in prose. My story becomes a sort of Trojan Horse, introducing ideas into the reader’s mind almost by stealth. This ability of stories to spell out a truth without seeming to is one of their most powerful properties (see opposite bottom).

An hour later I’ve filled in the rest of the story by working through my bullets. See opposite far right for how the seventh and final chunk reads:

The last sentence contrasts nicely with the first sentence I wrote about a dark day in the city and gives the whole story a pleasing symmetry. With our tale at an end and the readership hopefully engaged it’s on to the body of the text—but that’s another story.

The lesson here is simple: A narrative can achieve things a straight description can’t match. Stories enable writers to show understanding and create empathy without doing so directly. In this case it enabled me to turn each bullet in my skeleton structure into separate installments in an adventure story—an approach that hopefully shouts “Read me!” to any passing eyeballs.

The narrative format also means I can pack plenty of detail into a modest word count. Remember, this is just the introduction to a much longer communication— the detailed research findings and recommendations that follow are considerably straighter in tone. And, as you can see from the accompanying images, the superhero angle gave the illustrators something useful to work with. Holy inspiration, Batman!

Products with built-in personality

Who says a wastebasket has to be boring? With a bit of imagination we can use copy to increase the appeal of the most prosaic item. That’s what this job was about.

A kitchen wastebasket with class

I’m working on packaging copy for a new wastebasket. My task is to give it a distinct, appealing personality that will help it stand out in a crowded supermarket hardware aisle. If that sounds dull then think again— to succeed I need to find a quirky, off-center solution that will turn this ordinary object into something extraordinary. When it comes to creativity, your limitations set you free.

The basket already has a working title—OTT—based on the fact that its lid slides over the top of the body, making it easy to empty, and excellent in a tight space.

The designer I’m working with has given me some sketches that explore the idea of turning the upper case letters O, T, and T into an illustrated character, christened—appropriately enough—“Mr. OTT.” The sketches look fabulous, so I decide to build on this and bring the character to life. I start by thinking about what Mr. OTT might be like if he were a person. I mess around for a few minutes and arrive at:

Meet Mr. OTT

Mr. OTT is a man of letters. His mission is to make everyday life a little bit better—he doesn’t want to change the world, he just wants to change the way we deal with kitchen waste. Mr. OTT believes that by improving even the most humble household item, all domestic life can benefit. So that’s exactly what he’s busy doing.

I like the idea of Mr. OTT being on a mission to improve everyday existence so I’ll stick with this for the time being. It’ll never get used in this form (it’s a bit like the core-story technique we mentioned back in Lesson Two), but it gives me some useful material that outlines Mr. OTT’s personality—slightly eccentric but intelligent and useful.

The brief states we need a tagline. The “man of letters” phrase is cute, given Mr. OTT is literally made of type, but what does it mean? In what sense does Mr. OTT compare to a real-world man of letters (a slightly fusty term for an intellectual)? I try to justify my idea to myself but soon realize the honest answer is “Dunno, it just sounds good,” which means I’m guilty of pointless wordplay. Into the wastebasket it goes.

It’s always worth checking body copy for potential headlines, taglines, and so on. Reading my paragraph back after dumping “man of letters” I realize that’s the case here:

Mr. OTT
Making life a little better

Much improved. It suggests a customer benefit, something “man of letters” didn’t do. It’s also appealingly modest (in the sense that there’s no massive overclaim) and the leading verb makes Mr. OTT an active character (in the sense that he’s actually doing something).

Now, he’s called OTT so let’s see if I can push things a bit. How about some sticky headlines based on the wit and wisdom of Mr. OTT, each of which turns one of the basket’s features into a benefit? Throwing caution to the wind I crank out:

Mr. OTT says: “A good bin is like a sock—good when fresh, bad when it starts to smell.”

Mr. OTT says: “Fingerprints belong at a crime scene, not all over my lovely body.”

Mr. OTT says: “30 liters should be enough for anyone. If you want more get a dumpster.”

Mr. OTT is not at home to hard-to-remove trashbags.

Mr. OTT knows that size matters. Mrs. OTT is delighted with his extra 20%.

They’re fun, but are they a bit too OTT? Possibly, especially the last. What happens if I bring them back a bit and emphasize the connection with the basket’s main features? Here’s what:

A clever seal on my lid means nasty smells can’t escape.

I’m coated in a special antifingerprint finish so I stay spotless.

My Over The Top lid means I can swallow 20% more trash.

I’m easy to fill and empty because my lovely lid opens all the way.

I’m designed in the UK by that nice man Nick Munro.

That feels like it’s getting somewhere, although I’m still concerned I haven’t quite captured the essence of the features I’m trying to explain. Maybe a short subheading for each line would help—a sort of distillation of a distillation:

Fresh thinking

A clever seal on my lid means nasty smells can’t escape.

Bright and beautiful

I’m coated in a special antifingerprint finish so I stay spotless.

Think BIG

My Over The Top lid means I can swallow 20% more trash.

Easy does it

I’m easy to fill and empty because my lovely lid opens all the way.

True Brit

I’m designed in the UK by that nice man Nick Munro.

Nice. Notice how each header and copy line is approximately the same length. Graphic designers like that sort of thing—it means they can create a single visual device and then fill it with different text without the need for too much tinkering. Also notice how most of the lines have a regular, parallel structure beginning with “I’m” or “My,” suggesting to readers that Mr. OTT is a living, breathing character.

Enough. What have we learned here? I think one lesson is, try to have some fun. Obviously that’s not appropriate if you’re writing about, say, a new treatment for acute arthritis, but generally speaking, humor is a potent persuader.

Secondly, if you’re writing any sort of list or series of points, aim to balance your sentence or phrase lengths —either that or go completely the other way and deliberately reject all equilibrium, just don’t sit on the fence. As always, reading what you’ve written out loud is the best way to reveal its internal rhythm (or lack thereof).

Finally, remember that sometimes you need to do a bit of background writing to get to the foreground stuff. In this case the short “Meet Mr. OTT” paragraph acted as a launchpad for everything else. You don’t have to use your first thoughts, but they can help you get to where you need to be.

1. Our point being, we’re not here to instruct on search-engine optimization (SEO), content strategy, user-experience design, information architecture, and so on. We have great respect for the talented individuals working in those areas, but what follows restricts itself to the actual process of writing Web copy.

2. That’s why this book avoids any discussion of SEO, metrics and analytics, writing for specific social media channels, and so on. Anything we tell you—anything anyone tells you—will be out of date in the blink of an eye. We want this book to have lasting relevance and repay your investment for years, so we’ve steered clear of short-term specifics. If that’s wrong we don’t want to be right.

3. It’s been suggested that www.gov.uk’s startling lucidity may signal the beginning of the end for tone of voice, in the sense that once other organizations see how well gov.uk’s clarity and minimalism work they’ll abandon their efforts to create on-page personality and instead embrace an uncompromising “less is more” approach. That doesn’t seem too likely to us, but anything that challenges complacency and upsets assumptions has got to be good.

4. Latin filler text, used by designers since at least the 1960s to show where the words should go. Although based on real Latin (written by Cicero, no less) it doesn’t have any real meaning. Just so you know.