I know all the rules. I’ve read all the books. I’ve been doing this 16 years. I’ve written about tea, telecoms and tiramisu.
I’m good at writing copy. If anything, I’m too good.
Because I’ve got all that knowledge splashing around my brilliant brain. Like copywriting rule number one.
Benefits, not features.
That’s tattooed on the inside of my eyeballs. Not figuratively. Literally. It’s like screen burn-in, because I’ve seen it so many times, in all the books, the blogs and the presentations.
Benefits, not features.
Last month, I was re-writing the HNW website. Of course it was me. I’m good at writing copy. If anything, I’m too good.
Piece of cake. Benefits, not features.
Great benefits.
Like our message-first marketing approach being the single, simplest way to guarantee success for your marketing.
Like it being the clear, compelling and cost-effective way to build better brands, maximise marketing results and win more sales.
Benefits, benefits, benefits. And rule of three, and alliteration.
If anything, I’m too good at writing copy1.
Ben shared it with his mate - somone we’ve worked with in the past, and who’s pretty much smack bang in the middle of our client personas.
“It’s great. Really clear benefits. But I don’t know what you actually do.”
Yeah. So much focus on the benefits of message first marketing, I’d forgotten to mention the features. Like, creating brand identies, running tone of voice workshops, writing the fucking copy.
That’s the problem with reading all the books, going to all the conferences, doing it for 16 years and being perhaps too good.
Sometimes, you’re so focused on the difficult parts that you forget to do the easy part first. Especially if you’re so close to things that the features seem painfully obvious.
It’s a mistake I’d never make2 on client work.
Because that little bit of distance, even with clients I’ve worked with for years, means I’m always just as fascinated by those features as the benefits.
Maybe rule one needs a tweak. Benefits, of features.
Something mint - an advert for Ritz Crackers of all things
Bit retro, Ritz.
One of those snacks you don’t seem to see much any more.
But then there’s a lot of things you don’t see any more, like people turning up unnanounced instead of spending weeks on WhatsApp organising arrival times to the picosecond.
Or that mad run-around dash to tidy up the house when someone nips in for a cuppa without warning.
Or good ads on TV.
Or good ads on bus shelters.
Or good, simple straplines with a clear message. This is a snack that’s always there, doesn’t need to be cooked, feels a little bit fancy (it’s the name) and you won’t feel embarrassed to offer it to guests.
Ready when you aren’t.
Cracking.
Better than I am at reading a calendar. I scheduled this for next week, which is when my post summing up next Thursday’s Fix Fest should be out. I then didn’t notice until nothing went out this morning. Foolish me.
Plot twist! Ben Hampson wrote the homepage, so it’s his mistake. I wasn’t going to say anything, and be cool and self-deprecating and take the fall while sharing a useful lesson but he was all “ner-ner-ner, I wrote the homepage” in a meeting last month. Let the record show that I never, ever, ever make mistakes because I am, literally, to good at writing copy.