Are you a ZINGer?

Alas! My business coach, Winston Marsh, gave my expensive online shop the thumbs down!

On the topic of ZING-based copywriting, we’ve long been at odds.

It’s time to analyse the sticking place.

In the blue corner is me. I believe the message is everything. As I used to tell my Copy School students:

If you have a message that’s true, interesting and relevant to your audience, you can write it on a piece of toilet paper and nail it to a tree in the forest. Someone will find it and, if they’re not interested, pass it on to those who are.

In the red corner is Winston. He believes every message needs plenty of ZING and is adamant I should use phrases like:

Copywriting that’s so powerful, it sucks people’s eyeballs into the screen.

Words so compelling, they leap off the page and bite you on the bum.

Here’s his rationale:

I firmly believe the product or service must deliver on the promises made for it. Then, providing it does, that’s when you really sock it to them in language that sucks the eyeballs into the screen, etc.

It’s our job to really get the prospect excited, enthused and busting to buy. Remember, you sell the sizzle not the steak!

I have dreadful problems with sizzle. Yet Winston’s speaking, coaching and publishing empire is many times greater than I could hope to achieve.

What to do?

Ad agencies advise: ‘If you’ve got nothing to say, sing!’ In other words, if the product you’re flogging lacks merit, put all your resources into showmanship.

I totally get this with soft drink or chocolate. But what about corporate copywriting?

Because I believe I have something to say, I feel that singing is unnecessary (at best) and harmful to my brand (at worst). Surely my clear, correct, elegant copy is the singing equivalent of verbose, inaccurate, dreary copy.

Am I not singing already? Is not the steak more important than the sizzle?

There’s just one problem: most people who visit my shop don’t buy my ebook.

Winston took one look at my landing page and pronounced it ‘flat’. He’s certain that unless I ZING, my register won’t ring.

Should I stop being precious and get with the program? Or should I screw my courage to the sticking place and hold fast in defence of quiet, measured, reasonable copy?

How about you? Are you a speaker or a ZINGer?

If you changed tack, how would your audience react?

Your response would be music to our

eyes.

Brought to you by The Feisty Empire.

Remember how I unintentionally ‘mozzed’ my neighbour’s home auction by invoking a thunderstorm?

Well, I just got a letter with the best headline I’ve seen:

This is a corker.

This isn’t the best headline you’ve seen, but it wasn’t written for you. It was written for me, by Andrew Crotty, who wants to sell my home.

I am his target audience.

I wasn’t thinking of selling my home: now I am.

I’ve had emails, letters, postcards, magnets, phone calls and calendars from six other agents: I binned them all. Yet now I’m blogging about Biggin Scott.

Good headline.

In 10 Steps to Perfect Recruitment Ads I explain that the best ads have four elements: attention, interest, desire and action.

Attention

This house is four up from mine, with a similar floor plan. Mine’s better (of course)!

So if this sold for $530K, mine must be worth $550K; maybe more. That sure got my attention.

The subheader was the street address, which rammed home the local nature of this happy news.

Interest

Under the subheader was:

(Two bedroom cottage, no parking).

These diminutive italics were like a friendly aside, ‘So much loot for such a crap home – imagine what yours could fetch!’

I recalled that the pitch to buyers was rather more fulsome. Fortunately, it was still online*:

This Brick Victorian offers quick & easy access to the city along with being situated close to Victoria Park and public transport.

I LOVE how Cinderella-like, the robes vanished and the Brick Victorian reverted to a cottage for the purpose of my letter.

Interested? I couldn’t stop reading!

Desire

Andrew wisely gave a third of his space to the photo and headline. His body copy was uncommonly brief, yet it included everything a home owner could desire*:

We…have other…buyers keen to purchase in this area.

If you…would like a hassle free quick sale we would love to talk to you.

Why not see what your property is worth today.

Action

The bottom bore Andrew’s name and number in a massive, bold font. This was smart, as my eyesight is indeed waning.

Next to this was a full-length photo of Andrew: standing, smiling, handsome and tieless in a very nice suit.

My action? Though I wasn’t ready to sell my home, I asked Andrew if I could praise him in public. He replied:

I must admit I know very little about blogs but am happy to assist in any way. Feel free to use what you need…

Ye gods; honest too! That settles it: I’d better tell Fonnie we’re moving.

Anyway: attention, interest, desire, action – that’s how you write killer copy!

Brought to you by The Feisty Empire.

 * For journalistic integrity, I (barely) resisted the urge to optimise this copy. I’ve tried to ‘help’ many real estate agents, but they always get cross. I think it’s my delivery …

Some salient points …

When I read the quote for my new website, I got a fright. It said something like ‘pictures not included’*.

Last time I worked in a creative studio, clients were charged up to $150 per picture (pic). I needed nine.

Fortunately, much has changed in recent years.

I found and bought the pics I needed for only $15 each – a tenth of what I feared. My relief mirrored that of clients tracking this project with a view to doing their own sites.

Maybe you’ll benefit too.

Above is one of the pics I bought. You don’t see a lot of cuneiform on today’s corporate websites; it’s my WaPIUSP^!

This medium-sized pic is perfect for my purposes. The price licences me to use it on my website and this blog. Legally (and technically) I can’t plaster it on a jet or a skyscraper, but if I’m that successful, I’ll happily fork out an extra tenner.

I got the pic from iStockphoto. All the art directors I consulted recommended this site. Some also mentioned Shutterstock and Dreamstime but I didn’t find these as easy to use. You may.

In addition to being cheap and easy, iStockphoto had all the pics I sought. I added them to my ‘lightbox’, bought ‘credits’ on my credit card, downloaded the files to my PC and emailed them to my IT Guy. Once he got them, it was on.

I’m thrilled. And glad not to be dealing with a full-service advertising agency from last decade. In those days, CDs costing around $450 held themed sets of around 80 pics (e.g. Ancient Scripts in the Workplace).

Once a client approved a creative concept, the agency bought the necessary CD (if it didn’t own it already). It then charged the client up to $150 per pic!

Thus, after recouping the cost in as few as three pic sales, the agency reaped pure profit from subsequent sales for the life of the CD.

So long as cuneiform stayed in vogue, the CD was a money machine.

Next time you get a quote for a job with pics, ask how much they are. You may save quite a few shekels (and get exactly what you want) by sourcing them yourself.

Brought to you by The Feisty Empire.

* Images … will need to be provided or … sourced and the licensing fees paid … licensing fees are not included …

^ Weird and Possibly Ineffective Unique Selling Proposition.

A heartfelt guest post from Kate Toon.

The other day, Kate Toon invited me to guest on her blog. This was tremendous fun. Even funner, Kate has kindly returned the favour. And she’s chosen a topic dear to my (and quite likely your) heart. Take it away Kate!

As a writer I have what many people think is a dream job.

My office is the local café where I sip cappuccino and eat muffins.

I stay cosy at home while you commute to work in the rain.

Sometimes I wear my pajamas all day.

The only meetings I have are with my dog Pamplemousse.

“I’m a writer,” I tell people at dinner parties.

“Oh,” they reply, a look of new-found respect spreading across their face.

And I get to bask in the glow of their admiration for several seconds until they ask the next question.

“What do you write?”

Then I find myself muttering something about advertising and shuffling my tagliatelli around my plate until the conversation moves on.

The truth is I’m not a writer. I’m a copywriter.

I write websites, emails, ads and brochures for cold hard cash. I write about bins, drainage and insurance. I write for all those large corporations we love to hate. And though I absolutely love what I do, there’s a part of me that will always wish I were really Dorothy Parker.

But of late I’ve found myself writing less and less for myself. I just don’t feel I have enough oomph left at the end of the day to put pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard) and start being genuinely bum-clenchingly imaginative and creative.

And here’s why: I firmly believe that each day you wake up with a set amount of creative juice in your system – like a fresh, moist lemon, ripe and ready.

But as the day progresses you use up that creative juice. Writing that text message, those emails, that shopping list and of course the 112-page mobile website copy deck – they all use up your juice until your lemon is drained completely dry.

Of course I’ve dabbled in ‘real writing’, but I long to write a proper book, a feature film, a full-length play, something that I can be remembered for. I mean, I know I did a damned fine job on the Kmart Tyre and Auto website, but it’s hardly something my grandkids will be boasting about.

Unfortunately I just can’t get my teeth into anything that lasts longer than 10 minutes.

You see, after a day of correcting typos in 15 financial emails, or reformatting 96 product descriptions for a luxury gift site, I have nothing left. My nouns and verbs are weary, my adjectives floppy and my prepositions discombobulated.

Perhaps it would be different if I were a personal trainer, a plumber or a pilot.

If I spent my day using that other bit of my brain, the doing bit, then perhaps the writing bit wouldn’t end up being so bloody exhausted. Yes, for sure – if I were a Traffic Warden I’d happily come home to write for a few hours.

But I tried to do a not-writer type job. I trained as a masseuse a few years back and rather enjoyed it in theory. The reality of oiling up malodorous humans wasn’t quite as appealing, however, so that career was short lived.

So it seems by finally finding my dream job, I’ve actually scuppered my writing dreams. Which is frankly a touch depressing.

What do you think? Is it possible to write all day for money and then write all night for love?

Can you think of a way I can recapture my creative mojo? Any advice or experiences muchly appreciated.

Kate is an award-winning SEO and advertising copywriter with over 18 years’ experience. She’s also a well-respected SEO consultant, information architect, strategist, hula hooper and Creme Egg lover based in Sydney, Australia.

My dad didn’t need a foreword for his book. Because he always has the LAST word!

A client recently sent me this request:

‘A friend has asked me to write the foreword of her book. Can you give me any wise words of advice as to how I should approach this?’

Having never written a foreword, I had to think about this.

As I thought, I jotted down what I considered a logical sequence of points:

1. Read book.
2. If it’s crap, decline. (You mustn’t damage your brand by endorsing poor work.)
3. If it’s good, accept.
4. Ask friend how many words she needs from you.
5. Ask if there are any points she’d like you to touch on.
6. (Re?)read the forewords of your 5 favourite books of all time to see how they’re done.
7. Write first draft.
8. Seek friend’s feedback.
9. Edit if necessary.
10. Ensure friend is 100% happy.
11. Ensure you see final version before it goes live.
12. Ensure you have a link to your site for instant karma.

My client said she found this very helpful.

This exercise illustrates two important points:

1. You don’t always need to hire an expert. Critical thinking, common sense and a bit of research can get you quite far these days.
2. That said, the fact I could pull this list together in under five minutes shows how experience gained in other areas of writing can serve a professional copywriter well.

Have you ever written, been asked to write or commissioned a foreword?

If so, I’d love to hear your thoughts.

If not, I’d also love to hear your thoughts – especially as to whether you feel my methodology is legit.

In tough times, small is beautiful.

As a freelance copywriter, I watched clients past and present deal variously with a year of ‘interesting times’:

• One client terminated a chronic poor performer, so he could keep his better staff.
• A second gave accounts payable to his wife – who paid my invoices twice as fast!
• A third saw contract termination as a happy excuse to knock on different doors. He scored a fresh, new role in just two weeks.
• A fourth used his quiet time to commission a blog and reengineer his website for the soon-to-be-obligatory live Web 2.0 feeds.

These were all small to medium firms. The smaller they were, the faster they moved and the more they treated the global financial crisis as an opportunity, rather than a threat.

On the other hand, two larger (former) clients took a more traditional approach:

• One suspended their industry newsletter, just as customers sought leadership and staff needed a morale boost.
• Another retrenched all but a skeleton crew. These unhappy few were given cruel workloads and a 20% pay cut. The pressure was crippling and word of their torment spread far. And wide.

Brands have been damaged; perhaps even smashed. I can’t see either of these companies racing ahead any time soon.

Though my data are obviously insignificant, my observations suggest that in tricky times, small is beautiful.

Leaner, keener, stronger and smarter for their experience, I fully expect my nimble SME clients to lap their competition in the sunnier season ahead.

Brought to you by The Feisty Empire.

Special work needs special people.

Every now and then I realise what a fanatic I’ve become.

As with this email to a client today:

Dear Sybil,

With regard to compass directions, very few dictionaries use a space (i.e. north east).

The Oxford (and 12 other dictionaries) use hyphens (i.e. north-east).

24 (mainly US) dictionaries use no space (i.e. northeast).

As the module I’m working on makes significant use of these terms, I wanted to get direction (tee hee) from you.

I’d like to use hyphens.

Would that be OK with you?

Best regards,

P.

Yet proofreading demands fanatical attention to detail.

It’s the only way to get things 100% right.

So I’m happy to be nuts about this stuff.

Paul Hassing, Founder and Senior Writer, The Feisty Empire.

If it’s hard to read, they won’t.

Many documents I edit are written in the ‘passive voice’.

The passive voice is very bad news for communications, as it demands a greater number of longer words that are harder to read.

Recently a client asked what the passive voice actually means.

Here’s my light-hearted response:

Dear Fred,

This response has been cast, by me, in the passive voice, for the amusement of you.

Your words that are kind have made me experience a feeling of gratitude.

It is a matter of pleasure to me that the suggestions made by me were found by you to be of some benefit.

Unfortunately, the PDF which was attached by you to your email was not received by me, but hope is held by me that it will be sent by you to me. Eventually.

The final PDF is something that perhaps ought to be beheld by me, if not for the purpose of proofing, then at least for the purpose of placement by me in the archives belonging to the company of which I am Founder.

I am hopeful that this response will be found to be helpful.

By you.

Well, that’s all from me.

Best regards,

P.

Get my drift?

If you don’t, we may need to get passive aggressive!

Brought to you by The Feisty Empire.

Some names stand alone. Others need a little help.

When naming a company, course or other corporate thing, there’s a risk your choice may be a little ‘dry’.

You don’t want to put your audience to sleep.

On the other hand, you can’t be so ‘way out’ that you damage your brand.

A good solution is to have a creative title with a ‘sensible’ subtitle (or vice versa).

This two-pronged approach usually satisfies most audience members.

I used it this morning, with an article on leadership.

My title, Learning Leadership, was dry but functional.

My subtitle, How to Get Support from Above, Around & Below, added meaning and context and was a bit more ‘with it’.

When trying to come up with name options, the blank page can be very daunting. So I use what I call the ‘shotgun’ approach.

I define this in the intro I write for lists of names I prepare for clients:

This list comprises a broad spectrum of serious suggestions, potential thought starters and light-hearted ideas. By casting the net as wide as possible, I hope to either catch a winning idea or produce one in the mind of another.

Recombine components for more permutations. If you can’t decide between several suitable names, run them past a trusted group of people from the audience/s you wish to reach. Their feedback should guide you to a single choice.

This approach can take a while, but it invariably produces an ideal result.

If you’re stuck for a name, think of mine!

Paul Hassing, Founder and Senior Writer, The Feisty Empire.

Facing the word …

The other day a prospective client asked what I charge to write a professional biography (bio).

Here’s what I said:

Given a decent resume and a sample of a bio you like, I could do a 100-150 word bio in around 30-60 minutes.

At my hourly rate of $120/hr, that’s $60-120+GST.

If I’m given poor (or massively huge) source documents or bad direction, it may take me longer to create what you seek.

As with all copywriting, the clearer the brief and the better the source materials, the better, faster (and therefore cheaper) the job.

Paul Hassing, Founder and Senior Writer, The Feisty Empire.

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