Welcome, reader, to my internal monologue: an intense place where every project I do as a UK copywriter feels like it’s life and death.
I recognise it’s more than a little unhealthy. I know it comes from a place of anxiety and catastrophising the fact that, if the work isn’t spot on, the client will lose their mind and never speak to me again and then I’ll be unemployed and then I’ll have to get a job in a supermarket and then… well, you get the idea.
Caring too much about things is one of my most destructive traits. I think it’s also what a lot of copywriting clients are paying me for.
Clients and agencies: we care about different things
I don’t know who you are. If I did, that’d either be the advent of telepathy, or a GDPR nightmare with the amount of data I’d need. But I can hazard a guess that you have more fun things to obsess about than the meticulous detail of some copy.
I know, I know: you’re in marketing, you’re a client, you care about whether the copy is good. Or you’re an agency, and the work you send out affects your reputation and client roster. But you have more important things to focus on.
Maybe you’re thinking strategy—what the next year looks like, the project or opportunity emerging in twelve months that we can start planning for now. Maybe you’re consumed by the shifts in direction coming down from the senior leadership above you. Maybe you’re just focused on stretching your budget.
All those things can be affected by copywriting, branding and tone of voice. But that’s for you to worry about. What I care about is the copy—wholly and exclusively—and whether it does the job this specific, individual piece needs to do.
You can pay me to care about your copy
The things that I spend my time obsessing about are probably hard to relate to for most people. The things that put me on edge are things you might not even notice.
I get antsy when there’s not a clear hierarchy of information on a landing page. My pulse starts racing when I see some headlines that start with verbs, and others that don’t. I retch when some bullet points follow-on from the introductory sentence and some don’t.
These are the types of issue I’m thinking about all day, every day, while you do something substantially more interesting and useful. That’s what you’re paying your copywriter for—not just to write, but to own the copy and really take it personally. Whatever interesting stuff your workday has to offer, there’s a friendly UK copywriter obsessing about your commas and word choices.
I’ve worked on every kind of copywriting project. I’ve done first-hand client work for household names, building brands and tone of voice right alongside the senior leaders. And I’ve put together some headlines for a startup that I’ve never heard from again. I care about those projects equally—if only because I’m too self-critical to do work that’s phoned in.
The importance of owning it
The point is this: high-performing copy never comes from a transactional place. In my experience, it’s never successful when it becomes about meeting a word count, filling a space, or just getting the deliverable done.
The best results happen when you find a copywriter who’s willing to take ownership of your copy—and you’re willing to give it.
That’s not about losing your input or sense of control. It’s not about ignoring your amends. But it’s about your copywriter being willing to say this is what I do, I do it more than you, and I’m the last line of defence between your ideas and the beautiful work we’re creating together.
That means embracing amends and seeking input, but also applying a layer of expertise to get beneath the brief and, later, the feedback: what does this suggestion really mean? Do we actually want to change this word, or is it more about us being bored at this point in the copy, which might have a better fix?
Every day, we all spend our time solving problems—hopefully, ones worth solving. When your copywriter takes real ownership, your copy becomes their problem, not yours.
