Sometimes, I think about things unrelated to marketing, communications and breakfast. In fact, when I’m not copywriting, you’ll find me coffee-writing irate Facebook posts about the state of our planet. Here’s one from the other day, with a cameo from Costa Georgiadis.

George, Costa and yours in blue + green at Beechworth Co-Op, 2018

Normally I'm allergic to 'serious stuff', but I have to get this off my chest at the risk of sounding like crashingbore and damaging my totally average online reputation.

You'll tell me, won't you?

Good.

Climate Change. Let's talk about it.

Right now, our attention is focused on finding clever carbon-sinking technologies and/or pleading with the higher powers to drastically cut emissions.

Get. That. C02. Down.

But here's where I start waving my hands wildly and flinging spittle. (Sharing saliva is a sign of a healthy friendship.)

Rather than being the problem, climate change is a symptom of a whole bunch of different problems.

Cutting down the forests. Polluting the water. Treating a finite Earth as an infinite resource. Counting our pennies in a turret while eating bread and butter. That kind of thing.

The loss of healthy ecosystems and biodiversity is like a human losing their liver, or lungs, or heart. You're gonna end up in the sick bay.

Climate change is a sign of a very sick planet.

And our very unsustainable lifestyles.

So if we keep simply focusing on reducing carbon emissions, and even if we find solutions... where will that leave us?

In a world with exactly the same problems that caused climate change in the first place.

No trees. No animals. No clean water. And probably smouldering piles of debris and one rabid dingo for dramatic effect.

But at least there'll be less C02 floating around!

Here's the good news.

Seeing climate change as a *symptom* rather than something only The Big Guns can influence and control is a more hopeful perspective.

Because rather than waiting for pollies to pull their finger out, we can be using ours to plant trees.

Because rather than waiting for exciting new technologies to heal our atmosphere, we can use old technologies like community and conversation to heal our neighbourhood.

Because rather than relying on hive mind, we can pop bee hives in the backyard and bring back some insects. Except fruit flies.

Because rather than saving the whole world, we just have to save our bit.

Could fixing climate change be a matter of all of us, in our communities, with pretty humble intentions, creating greener, healthier spaces, bringing back the trees, bees, and becoming custodians - rather than consumers - of this goddamnbeautiful planet?

Maybe.

And if not, at least there are people like Costa to entertain and educate us til the end.

There’s a fun game I like to play called: Make Me Obsolete!

The aim is to convince potential clients that they don’t need me; they’ve got this; to save their pennies and put them towards a new beer fridge, gold-plated paper clips, etc.

Why would I do that? Do I need therapy, a business coach, a pep talk, a lesson in economics? Yes and no.

What a copywriter shouldn’t say

I Do Words - but that doesn’t mean I need to Do Words for everyone.

Some businesses (or, the people behind the businesses) are perfectly capable of penning their own charismatic copy. Some businesses are innately personal, benefiting from copy that’s homespun and heartfelt. Some businesses are determined to hire a copywriter when they’d be better served by a new website, logo, or identity.

There’s a time and place for professional copy, and there’s a time to play Make Me Obsolete!

If you’re currently wearing a quizzical expression, here are a few examples.

My friend runs a crêpe stall. She wrote her whole damn website, and it’s sweeter than kittens chasing piglets chasing hedgehogs. You can tell it’s DIY; you can appreciate that she’s a small biz; you can hardly wait to get your mitts on her wares. A copywriter couldn’t have made it more charming if they tried.

An old client got in touch about revamping a construction capability statement. I took one look and knew words weren’t the issue: design was. Enter my good mate Kate - creative shaman - who made the documents look 22 million bucks (which is lucky, as that was the sum at stake).

When I’m approached about writing social media copy, I hesitate. Unless you’re a university, law firm or right wing pollie peddling poetic nonsense, chances are you don’t need posh copy for every socials post. In fact, live updates from the source (you or your staff) are far, far more engaging than anything I can concoct from my chair in Tassie - even if they contain a few typos.

Professional copywriting can revolutionise your business. But sometimes, DIY is just as effective.

Here are six questions to help you figure out whether or not you need to cough up for copy.

What do people want (and expect) from you?

If you’re in the business of “serious stuff” - high-stakes financial manoeuvres, mental health, medicine, human rights… better invest in professional writing to preserve trust and confidence in your brand. A grammatical faux pas can derail your credibility in an instant.

On the other hand, if your product or service is more casual (but no less important) - food, fashion, lifestyle, fitness, pet portraiture - creating your own copy can be a great option.

Does your website a) work and b) bear absolutely no resemblance to this?

If your online shop front could use a lick of paint, prioritise it. Hiring a copywriter to populate pages that repel people wastes everybody’s time.

If you can afford it, get design and copy working together to action an Extreme Website Makeover that’ll have everyone weeping and hugging during the Big Reveal.

Are you a decent writer, or a keyboard wreck?

If you’re a confident communicator, go ahead and write.

If you passed your HSC English exam by one lucky point awarded for correctly identifying yourself at the top of the page, maybe copywriting isn’t your calling after all.

Do you have time?

Yep or nup.

Are you willing to obey the Rules of Considerate Copy?

Try not to waffle. Make it relevant to your reader. Ditch the jargon. Use contractions. Be original. And for the love of Dickens, PROOFREAD.

Do you want to?

And finally, it boils down to desire. If you don’t want to write your website/bio/flyer/tagline/blog/book, palm it off. Hire me for an exorbitant fee because you’d rather be playing polo. Or hire me for a reasonable fee and throw in a polo lesson. I love ponies.

It’s not every day I get the chance to play Make Me Obsolete!.

Some days I feel downright useful.

But I’m here to remind you that, when it comes to copy, you have options.

Write some yourself, outsource the high-stakes stuff.

Write everything yourself, see if it converts.

Do your socials, get help with blogs.

Understand your audience’s expectations, your brand identity, your personal strengths and your time limitations, and use that intel to decide if a copywriter is just the person to inject fresh energy and expertise into your business… or currently unnecessary.

And with that, it’s back to the game.

Your move.

My boyfriend has had the same pair of trainers for 10 years.

They gape open at the front like foul-mouthed foot puppets, letting in water and dirt and debris and leeches and ticks and all manner of foreign material.

Not too long ago, we did a 32km day hike. No prizes for guessing what George wrapped around his feet.

It’s inspiring, really. George is proof that we don’t need a new pair of shoes every five minutes. Quality shoes can last years - decades, especially with the right care - and his thriftiness is exactly what’s needed to put the brakes on waste and stride into a sustainable future.

In saying that, I just bought a new pair of kicks*.

Gimme a break, will you? You’ll understand why I couldn’t resist in a mo.

I tripped over Radical Yes online - a ferociously flat-footed local footwear business with aesthetics, ethics and branding to make your toes all sweaty with lust.

As well as crafting beautiful shoes, they nail great copy, showcasing a brilliantly conceived brand personality that’s consistent at every touchpoint. Radical Yes succeed at sticking in the minds (and hearts) of their shoppers long after checkout - and much of that is thanks to words.

Of course, being a sucker for beautiful copy AND thoughtfully made footwear was the double-whammy, judgement-impairing punch to my anti-consumerist-tendencies that had a pair of patent leather booties (complete with shearling wool lining) sitting in my basket in two shakes of a lamb’s tail (as it was shorn for the above fashion purpose).

And because the whole experience was so excellent, I compiled a few choice lessons from the smart soles at Radical Yes that might help you in your branding and writing endeavours.

Here we go.

Pick a radically memorable name

Radical Yes. An unexpected combo of power words that feels like an affirmation, a mission. Before you even take a squiz at their product, Radical Yes invites you to be part of something offbeat and exciting, simply by having a superpunchy name. And for fashion-forward thinkers whose shoes are an extension of their personal, political and environmental beliefs, that’s like crack.

Do this: If you’re throwing around names for your business or venture, consider how words feel in the mouth, thrum in the ears, carry rhythm or power or weight… beyond their definition. If in doubt, ditch the puns and dig around for powerful, memorable words that aren’t readily associated with your industry - and of course, test them out for adverse reactions. (Sometimes there’s a ghastly euphemism or street meaning lurking within your well-intentioned moniker. This hasn’t not happened to me. Hem.)

Coin a radical mission statement

Flat Shoe Liberation. Radical Yes is on a mission to free feet from the tyranny of unnatural elevation - and it’s called Flat Shoe Liberation. In coining the phrase and scattering it around their website and socials, they rise above the one-dimensional offerings of their tinea-encrusted counterparts and stand out. These are shoes with substance. Shoes you can get emotional about. Shoes you’ll talk about at dinner parties and spruik to strangers on the street. Who’d ever wear heels again?

Do this: Give people a reason to care about (and rally behind) your product, getting clear on what you stand for and what you stand against. Distill your mission into a phrase or sentence, use liberally in copy and comms, and you’ve just hacked that sales slump.

Create a radical brand vocab

Stay radical! Like Steve Irwin, Jamie Oliver and countless iconic celebs, Radical Yes have crafted their own radical lexicon that inspires delight (and ensures you remember them). They sign off emails with Stay Radical!, pay you compliments like We think you’re radical and even address their postal orders to Radical Catie Payne… or whatever your name is plus a radical prefix. These tiny-yet-mighty touches give shoppers and window-lickers something to smile about, something to recognise, and something to make them feel all warm, fuzzy and familiar every time they interact with your brand.

Do this: Develop a brand voice. Don’t be afraid to deviate from standard industry speak. Brainstorm words and phrases that suit your brand’s personality, and weave them throughout. Importantly, find the small, short, or transactional bits of copy in your business and make ‘em work for you. Things like order confirmation pages, reminders, invoices, email signatures, the words on your packaging… prime personality real estate! Many brands/businesses/companies overlook these opportunities to inject personality and flair - but you don’t have to, you crafty millionaire.

* So, what about that asterix? It happened like this: I got the shoes, tried them on, and had a big old ponder about their place in my increasingly functional wardrobe. While they are certified fab, my feet are already well shod - and thus, I returned them. Radical remorse is real. The lessons still stand. If you want my spurned pair, grab ‘em while they’re warm.

We know about intuitive eating. It’s when you trust your body to tell you what food it wants, when.

We know about intuitive dating. It’s when you heed the thumbs-down emoji hovering over the head of the babbling madman who asked you to dinner, and politely decline dessert.

But intuitive editing? What’s that?

It’s when you read over what you’ve written and listen for the fizz, the crackle, the zing.

It’s when you scrap what doesn’t sizzle on the page like a hanger steak.

It’s when you edit by feel, not by formula.

Intuitive editing can help you tighten your writing, punch-ify your copy, and cut to the chase - instinctively.

And why is that important? A few different reasons.

If you’re workshopping a tagline, a bio or anything short and high-stakes, it requires charisma. It should sing and entertain and move readers like a regular Sammy Davis Jr.

If you’re writing a blog or an article, intuitive editing can help you shape the text into a thing of coherence and beauty - beyond the first-draft thicket.

Editing is a vital step in any creative process. Intuitive editing allows you to feel what to keep and what to cut.

I put it into practice just a moment ago.

After struggling for over an hour with a blog intro that sounded flat and forced, I moved my cursor down three paragraphs, started reading, and realised there, there was the place to start. Three paragraphs after my intended beginning!

How did I know? I could hear the writing change from trying-hard to ringing true. All I needed to do was listen (then bravely kill my darlings).

Ask yourself: does this sentence sizzle... or stink?

Keep practising. Make backspace your bestie. Trust your instincts.

You know when something’s good to eat.

You know when someone’s good to date.

And you know when something’s good to publish.

My mate runs a crêpe stall at one of the most famous weekend markets in the world.

She’s French, and whips piping hot and tender skins off the skillet, oozing chocolate, lemon curd, ham, eggs and cheese while maintaining perfect hair.

The other day, she asked me to take over for three months while she took off around Australia.

Sure thing, I said. Looks easy enough.

Bless my ignorance.

Making crepes sent me back to kindergarten and spanked my derriere. Hard.

Who knew these simple street snacks were so tricky?

Before trying it myself, I never appreciated the skill required to ladle batter onto an edgeless surface hotter than the face of the sun, whirl that batter into a wafer-thin circle using a quaint wooden paddle (without tears, breaks or lumps, mind you) then perform pancake puppetry with a metal spatula to manoeuvre and fill the damn thing with runny condiments, and plate it up for a hungry punter - all in under 60 seconds.

My first 103 practise crepes were homages to Hannibal. After that, things started to click.

You’ll be pleased to know that by midday of my first Saturday market, I was able to smile at the customers and exchange weak banter while preparing their treats. One small girl even said “PHWOOOAR! You must’ve been doing that for years!” in response to my wrist action. Thanks, my little cabbage. I haven’t.

A few good things came of my uncomfortable ascension to crepe-making mediocrity.

One, I ate a lot of free crepes. Ditto my dog. Ditto my man.

Two, I dropped a grenade in my comfort zone, experiencing a spectrum of humbling emotions from utter incompetence to frustration, appreciation for the skills of others, to finally, pride in my own perseverance.

Lastly, I was reminded of a valuable marketing lesson.

When you’ve been running a business for a while, it’s easy to take your product or service for granted. To be blinded by your own expertise, and stop thinking what you do is extraordinary.

As a result, many businesspeople hesitate to share their process, because to them it’s second nature. Old hat. Boring.

But you must - must! - make a fuss of what you do.

With fresh eyes (and flummoxed hands), I saw the magic in my friend’s deceptively simple service - and decided to share it.

I told every customer, “Mon Dieu! This is so much harder than it looks!”, describing how the batter is prepared according to French tradition, how my friend went to elite-level crepe college to hone her craft, and all the tiny, authentic touches that make these morsels a true Parisian treat.

The crepes were received and eaten with relish.

This ‘inside info’ about your product or service is what gets people excited.

These tidbits can be used to differentiate your business - online and in person.

These facts may feel mundane to you as practitioner, but to your customers, are nothing short of miraculous.

Perhaps you go to great lengths to source top quality ingredients; maybe you studied under a master practitioner with a crazy teaching method; it could be that you spend countless hours preparing for each client, personalising their treatment or session.

Share it.

Weave that delicious detail into your social media posts, use it as blog fodder, pitch it as a story to magazines and do interviews - sharing your process not with pomposity, but with true enthusiasm.

And soon, you’ll be all le rage.