On Copywriting

What makes a writer a copywriter?

Most writers fill pages. We empty them.

That’s the first tough lesson I learned on the first tough day at the job.

That our craft isn’t in what we say, but what we dare to leave unsaid.

So give us your hopelessly bloated paragraphs, your meandering narratives, your cluttered pages. We'll gut them. That’s what we do.

It’s simple mathematics. Ten words that work beat a hundred that don't.

Don't tell me you're creative. Show me you can edit.

Your precious words? Cut them. Your clever phrases? Prune them. Your brilliant paragraphs? Strip them bare.

What will you find when you do this? Copy. Wonderful, beautiful, razor-sharp copy.

The best copywriters aren't writers at all. They're butchers with a delete key. Surgeons with a deadline. Snipers with lateral vision.

We know what makes people tick. What makes them click. What makes them stick.

Anyone can write a hundred words. A copywriter makes ten sing like a thousand.

That's not writing. That's copywriting.