I’m about to get a new website. So here I am — a website copywriter, writing my own website content.
Easy, right? It’s what I do for a living.
Nope.
Physician, heal thyself. Right now, I’m contorted into knots trying to see my business from the outside. I have, in effect, become my own client. I have become… you.
This blog is displacement activity. It’s either this or cleaning the bathroom (again). Seriously, I must have the cleanest bathroom in Brighton.
In the process of being you, I’ve learnt 5 things which may be of interest. Here they are:
1. You don’t care about my writing ability
Well, you do (obviously) — but my writing ability comes as standard. It goes with the territory. After all, I wouldn’t last long if my work was riddled with spelling missteaks and I couldn’t write proper.
Writing skills are not the main reason why you’d put `copywriter’ into Google.
Selling yourself. It’s awkward. I’m guessing you’d rather bite your own arms off.
Am I any better at this than you?
No, I’m rubbish. Total pants. Other people? No problem. I can home straight in on the value, and explain it clearly without `selling’ or making them sound like a boastful plonker.
Me? Hopeless. There’s a persistent imaginary voice that keeps whispering “No one likes a show-off”.
Also, I can’t see the forest for the trees… which brings me onto the next thing.
2. Goddammit! Where’s the forest?
Earlier today (before cleaning the bathroom), I wrote an entire paragraph drivelling on about keyword stuffing. Do you care about keyword stuffing? Probably not. Because here’s the next thing I’ve learnt:
You want someone to cut through the rubbish — the unnecessary trees. The stuff that makes potential customers ask, `Why would I give a flying squirrel about this?’
My problem is the same as yours. When you’re inside a forest every day, you can’t see which trees are important, and which ones need chopping down with a chainsaw.
(OK, I may have overdone the forest metaphor there.)
I’m going to come right out and say this. On most B2B websites, there’s too much detail — and I’ve just worked out why. As business owners, we are experts in our industry. We know too much.
If I used the words `conversion rate‘, for example, would you know what I was talking about? Or, would you think, `Why has she mentioned my unused loft space‘? I honestly have no idea.
I am not my own customer. I’ve never needed a copywriter because… well, why would I? I can write perfectly well. The real problem is getting into your shoes, dear reader. I’ve been walking around in them, trying to find out where your feet hurt.
Jeez, it’s taking a long time and frankly, I have other things to do.
3. You have other things to do
Writing content is hard work. There’s no getting around the fact.
Time is passing. Lots of time. Heck, I could be writing someone else’s content, earning money from it. Like me, you have better things to do — you know, the things that pay the mortgage.
Outsourcing. I’ve just realised why so many people do it. And here’s another thing:
4. Procrastination
My website designer is lovely. But she’s getting tetchy. For the last 3 weeks, I’ve been promising to deliver my content `tomorrow’.
Apparently, one of her clients has been saying this for the last two years. Two years!
There are always, always good reasons for the delay. There’s a new product launch, the pitch to a major multinational client, a looming deadline… the dog ate my content. There are any number of excuses for procrastination, but it boils down to this:
Fear.
At some point or other, we all experience self-doubt. No matter how successful we are, someone else is better, more efficient, more talented. That nagging feeling is enough to paralyse the bejeezus out of our self worth — and we need self worth in order to write about ourselves.
So we put it off.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow… Yeah, tomorrow I may ask someone else to write my content for me.
5. Benefits and features faceplant
When I write content for others, I can instantly tell the difference between the features of their business, and the benefits of those features for customers.
- Feature — Bells and whistles
- Benefit — They make your life easier (and possibly more musical)
I’ve always been rather proud of this ability. Guess what? Pride has come before a fall. A total faceplant, in fact.
It’s impossible to see the benefits of your own services, isn’t it? You become fixated on a particularly lovely feature, and blind to its real-life advantages for a customer.
Hey, do me a favour? If you can see the benefits of— well, me, please write in. I could use some help.
In the meantime, where’s the Cillit Bang?
