Why commerical copywriting needs more artists
There's a coffee shop in the city of Bath called Colonna & Smalls. I’ve taken dates there. Client calls. Worries and cares. One glance at the blackboard behind the counter and you’ll notice:
This is the most expensive coffee in a hundred-mile radius.
And sometimes the baristas have the audacity…
…to place a second. even more expensive coffee menu in front of you.
The starting price on the second coffee menu is six Great British Pounds. And it doesn't stop there.
This is coffee selected like wine. Described like wine. And priced like wine.
I’ve tasted it, and can only describe it as an experience. This is not coffee you’re buying for a caffeine hit, or as a grown-up vessel for milk and sugar. You’re paying to let your taste buds sit down in a sold-out Carnegie Hall and listen to the New York Orchestra.
It made such an impression on me, that when I began plotting the launch of my own copywriting business early in 2024, I scribbled down the thoughts “copy positioned as a wine list”.
I knew they were onto something, and I wanted to make more brands like it. I wanted my own brand to be like it.
To do this, I’d need to stop acting like I was making caffeine to order, and I’d need to start acting with a different kind of vision.
I’d need to act like an artisan.
More than that: I’d need to think like an artist.
Once upon a time I worked in a glass artist’s workshop
It was a cathedral-like warehouse glimmering with stained glass – except the glass was on workbenches, caught between metal clamps.
The place hummed with the heat of 2000°C furnaces.
The floor was coated in the kind of dust that might make your fingers bleed if you touch it.
I was mostly there to clean up the bloodthirsty dust, polish the glassware and show visitors around.
Two other people worked there….
One Maker and one Artist.
The Maker was focused on batch production of high-end fittings for hotels and homeowners.
The Artist was focused on creating whatever came into his genius brain – sculptures, vases and stained glass – and his stained glass now greets the morning light in the Houses of Parliament.
Now, the maker was a gruff fellow from a gruffer part of London, and he was adamant in this opinion: he was not an artist.
He made beautiful things, sure. But, as he said, he made them to spec.
One of my friends, a musician, says the same thing: “Give me instructions,” he says, “or a recipe to follow. Don’t ask me to express myself.”
I’d split their definitions like this:
A Maker works with recipes, templates and best practice.
An Artist works with a vision – even if it defies the recipes, templates and best practice.
An artist is no better than a maker, simply different. I love Elizabeth Schowachert’s definition of a maker: “someone who takes deep satisfaction in making functional and beautiful things.”
But there’s a limit to “beautiful and functional” in copywriting.
And often because it’s hijacked by the wrong kind of vision.
Why does so much copywriting feel like clutter on the internet?
How many product descriptions have you seen that look like they exist because they must.
Because someone said, “we need a product description”
Not because anyone thought the product description could create impact?
And if you think the impact will be low, you play it safe. Because the emphasis changes from “let’s create interactions that will spark joy for our customers and impact the bottom line” to “let’s make sure our messaging is signed off by all stakeholders.”
It’s no wonder some people think AI can replace copywriting. They never believed copywriters could have any real impact in the first place.
And so we hire people who can fulfil a brief, rather than set a better vision.
The wrong kind of vision is often defined by low expectations.
What it needs is someone who can bridge the gap between what is and what actually could be possible.
And as the Japanese Nihonga artist, Makoto Fujimura, writes, “An artist hovers between what is conventional and what invokes the future.”
Too often we’ve not let artists anywhere near our strategy – and it suffers for it.
This is something I’ve had to challenge myself on this last year. I’ve been the “creative lead” role at a copywriting agency, and I’ve done big picture strategy for years.
But I haven’t always given myself the time, space and permission to go beyond this. But I’m beginning to do something different these days.
Now I lay out the trade-offs required to my clients:
“You’ll need to be more honest in your comms.”
“You’ll need to give weight to even the smallest customer interaction.”
“You’ll need to ignore the trends and return to your brand’s roots.”
And of course, the cost of hiring me is a tradeoff.
But it’s all to take them from one place to another: from the marketing norms they’re accustomed to, to a future where they can afford to charge more, win larger clients, and break into new markets.
I identify as both an Artist and a Maker, but for a long time I kept the two worlds separate.
With my Artist hat on I wrote songs, stories and poems, but then I swapped it for a Maker hat to fulfil my copywriting and ghost-writing work.
In the last 12 months, I’ve started blurring the lines.
The easiest place you can see evidence of this is on the homepage of my new website.
The reaction I got from publishing my site was proof enough that it worked:
Later that same day, my ideal target client got in touch - one I wrote down by name when deciding on the messaging of my business.
We’re now working on a long term email list project.
Not only that – they’re now getting feedback like this from their customers 👇
—-
“Some encouragement on your newsletter: I think it’s one of the best I subscribe to, and I’m a newsletter fan.
It’s so authentic and the writing comes from a place of community and bringing your followers on a journey.
I’ll be honest I’m not reading it for the content a lot of the time but purely for the style in which it’s written, it’s so well done.”
Naturally, I’ve started thinking how I can create the same impact for my other clients
Best practice, templates and recipes can help me to create something polished, but rarely something inspirational.
So I’m being intentional.
Breaking best practice in just the right ways to fulfil a vision.
I think my clients are noticing the shift. And it’s affecting the conversations I have with them.
Here’s one I had a couple of months back:
—
CLIENT: We've got a job description, but it needs more juice. Like, when you read it, it should sound like the best job ever.
ME: I’ve got two options for you. 1) I give it more juice for *names price* 2 ) I make it the best job description you or I have ever read for *names price*
CLIENT: I'll go for option two!
—
So I fashioned a “best job description ever” that got me a bit of feedback along the lines of “This is perfect” and a chunk of cash that’s worthy of the product.
Here’s the thing – I don’t think I could have created that “best job description ever” if I’d stuck to my Maker habits.
Now it’s time to walk the path of an Artist-copywriter. And maybe that sounds very, very pretentious but if so it’s a pretentious way to create more impactful work.
So I’ll keep going with it.
If you'd like to pour out the fine wine for your customers, I'm at your service.
