Posts from — May 2008

The last post was a blast to write (and I still think it’s pretty good). but now (here), I’ll talk a little bit more about what it means for you. Namely, what it means for you to write write better (more working-class) copy.

Maybe it’s because we were all exposed to great, romantic works in school (and never exposed to good, straight-forward copywriting), but most people think of writing as genius. That’s fine (and it can serve you to write some pretty good stuff). But there’s a draw-back (because more than likely, you’re not a genius); it mostly comes out as fluff. There’s more focus on describing the beautiful rolling cow pastures than there is focus on shoveling the gutters (I bet you can guess what that entails).

I bet too, that if you look back at some of your own copy (or that of some others), you’ll see what I mean. You want to fix it? Well, you don’t necessarily need to cut out all the fluff (it certainly serves its’ purpose). And you definitely don’t need to change your style (just to imitate mine)… that would be stupid. You do, however, need to tighten it up. You need to roll up your sleeves, put on your Carhart’s (or your work pants of choice), and shovel some shit. You need to not only make it pretty, but you need to make it work.

Do that, and you’ll have working-class copy. You get that, and you’ll have a better website (and a better brand). It’s that simple (kinda); hard work, good results.

The last line of my last post (describing my writing style) went like this: not pretty, but in the end, effective.

Though I think I put out good stuff, I also think that’s true. And really, I think it distinguishes me from a lot of other writers. Those that I’m talking about (and you know who they are) have a special way with words. And not only words either – a special gift for imagery, description, dialogue, and narrative. They’re not all great (in fact, most of them aren’t), but they’re pretty. They produce pretty stuff.

I can’t do that. It’s just not my game. I can’t write poetry, and I won’t write the next great novel (I promise you that). Maybe I lack the talent, or maybe I have the wrong background – they do say that all great writers (and even most good ones) have miserable childhoods. It’s the childhood angst (and the writers’ compulsion to explore it) that produces genius works.

I’m not sure about that (I can’t recognize genius most of the time, let alone speculate as to its’ origins). But it would help explain my inability to write poetry (and conversely, my ability to write darn-good copy). I didn’t have a miserable childhood. I wasn’t raised in horrible houses in the slums. I was raised in a steady house in farm-country pastures. I didn’t hustle the streets as a young man to make a living… I tended after cows, and sheet-rocked houses.

I have my share of childhood-related anger, but I don’t have a lot of anguish, and I don’t have a lot of desire to spill it out onto a page. I have a desire (and a limited amount of talent) to produce sporadic emotion-filled works of genius. But most of the time, I just have a desire to do the job, and get it done right.

It’s not literary-genius copy. It’s working-class copy. And frankly (in most cases), I think it’s better.

I don’t get the chance to do it as much as I’d like, but surfing the blogosphere is one of my favorite things to do. Not only because it informs me, but because it inspires me - it shows me not only what other people are doing and thinking, but inspires me to do and think in new ways myself. It makes this blog better, and it makes my work better.

This morning, I got a chance to check in on one website that I’ve been meaning to look at: www.condredge.com. It’s a blog from a cool guy I’ve met over twitter, and over the web. It’s about entrepreneurship, but like any good blog (about anything), it’s more about Condredge’s personal journey through entrepreneurship than anything else.

His most recent post (which I stole the title of for this one), is about something I write about here a lot: getting out there and doing it. He’s saying that entrepreneurship isn’t about waiting around for opportunities, and it isn’t about not doing something because of the possibility for failure. It’s about going out, and making things happen. Going out and doing what feels right to do, even if you don’t know why (or where you’re going). It’s business as faith, and I think there’s a lot to it… both outside and inside the startup world.

But I think there’s a lot to it in the startup writing world too. For me (and for most), it’s not about creating the perfect sentence, or waiting around for it to come. It’s about getting out there and writing. Then re-writing, then re-writing again. It’s about working to get a certain point without knowing beforehand exactly where that point is, or how you’ll get there. That’s how I produce good stuff (and how you can too). It’s an art, but the kind of art you get by welding huge chunks of steel together. Not pretty, but in the end, effective.