Don't Shoot The Messenger. Shoot The Copy

Sitting at the laptop, tummy filled with the goodness breakfast in an acai bowl can buy, including the Instagram snap that's so on brand right now, it’s time to write your sales page.

 

Yesterday, the journal was overflowing with words. You wrote so much your handwriting turned to chicken scratch as you tried your hardest to keep up with your mind. Your hand started to cramp. Each word you wrote down unlocked the key to the next word. And on it went. You weaved together the types of clients you’re ready to work with and how. You’ve got topics for blog posts covered.

 

You wrote out bold declarations of feeling in flow and business being easy. Of waking up to the sound of your own internal alarm buzzing with excitement to start the day. Of going to see a personal trainer while making sales. Of coaching clients in your beautiful white, light and Pinterest-worthy office while your house gets cleaned by hired help. 

 

And underneath your day, you know exactly what you came here to do.

 

Declared in big bold cursive without apology.

 

It’s clear. It’s strong. It’s so simple. 

 

A new coaching program and service revealed itself on the pages of your Moleskine. And it feels even more right and real than what you’ve currently got on offer.

 

This is what people really want and need.

 

This is what you’ve been sent here to teach.

 

This is it.

 

This is your thing. Your golden business ticket.

 

All of you. All of them. All the pieces of the puzzle, scratched out and solved in the cream pages of your trusty Moleskine.

 

So here you are. You’ve taken yourself on a writer's date to magnetise the message that’s come through and write the sales page that'll save your business. 

 

Sipping your coffee, you roll your shoulders a few times.

 

You open up the journal pages for inspiration. You gently run your fingers over the indentation the words have left.

 

Evidence this is real and this is your truth.

 

You close your eyes and breathe it in. 

 

Ready to write, you open the page.

 

It's go time.

 

The page on your screen remains blank.

 

You start typing. You delete.

 

You start typing. You edit. You delete.

 

You start typing. You type some more. You delete the first thing. You edit the second which is now the first. You delete.

 

The page is blank.

 

You notice your heart begins to race faster, your mouth goes dry. You take a sip of water. The last thing you need is your ego to creep up and tell you everything you wrote down was a crock. Completely fabricated by your delusional higher self and totally not attainable in today's world. 

 

You slow your breathing down to monitor your heart rate and you give yourself full permission to just write.

 

So you start again.

 

And you cringe and every word that comes out.

 

But you keep writing.

 

Somehow you’ve got a paragraph together. It doesn’t really make any sense and it has nothing to do with your message.

 

Fuck.

 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Did what I write mean nothing? Is my message even what I want? Clearly if I can’t write about it then it mustn’t be my message. It mustn’t be aligned. Ahhhhh but I love it. It speaks to me so much. But I just don’t know how I’m supposed to talk about it. And if I can’t express it, then surely it’s not right. Maybe if i just go back to the drawing board it’ll become even more clearer. Maybe if I just ask myself more questions, then it’ll show itself...

 

So you open your journal and start pondering the big questions about the message you were so clear about only yesterday.

 

This time, there’s a sense of urgency in the air. You've read countless times about how businesses fail because they're not clear. You can't be not clear. You must be clear. 

 

So you morph your message slightly. Targeting business owners is clear. It feels more grounded.

 

You get back to your sales page.

 

This time though, you physically can’t write a single word.

 

This time though, you’re rebelling so hard you feel like a moody teenager who’s digging her heels in sulking in the corner.

 

But you don’t want to buy into that bullshit. You came here to write. 

 

So you write. And the words come out so flat you’d be mistaken for a dude. 

 

You’re about two words away from throwing your laptop across the cafe and storming out. 

 

The words aren’t capturing the essence of your message, who you are and what you’re trying to sell.

 

They’re lukewarm at best.

 

And nice at worst.

 

Which doesn’t make any sense at all, because you had all the feels yesterday when you wrote for hours. Yet, all the feels you felt have vanished without a trace.

 

You read over your paragraph and it feels so fluffy and fake and substanceless. Complete drivel.

 

You’re better than this.

 

You’re wittier than this.

 

You’re funnier than this.

 

You’re clearer than this.

 

But you push through because you’re committed.

 

A day later, it’s up on your website and you’ve emailed your list to let them know.

 

Except instead of clients banging down your door, it’s crickets.

 

No one’s interested in what you’re selling.

 

No one’s interested in what you’re saying.

 

No one’s interested. Period.

 

For a split second you open the job search website. You type in admin assistant, casual and you scroll through. It’s your less dramatic equivalent of throwing in the business towel but it sends a very powerful message to your business: screw you, and your non-clients, too.  

 

You snap out of it, namely because the thought of having to update your resume is more painful than writing the sales page. You start looking at your ‘go to gurus online.’

 

You read over their sales pages.

 

You ponder if you need to be coached by them. 

 

If you need a once off clarity session.

 

But you don’t need any of those.

 

Exhibit A: your chicken scratch from yesterday. 

 

You don’t need to get clear on your message.

 

Deep down, you know what your message is.

 

You need the right words to articulate your message.

 

Articulating your message with the right words is where everything comes crumbling down.

 

And while you’ll try and justify that you just need a better marketing strategy, what you’re doing is denying yourself a basic need. 

 

Communication.

 

Your ability to communicate your needs and wants are as basic as eating, drinking and shelter. No wonder you're cracking the sads like an emo teenager.

 

The way you communicate in business is the difference between bread and butter on the table and that organic acai bowl you’re starting to feel guilty about because you know that for $15, it’s just a biiiittt too much considering you can't seem to write a sales page to save you. 

 

The thing with communication, words aren’t just words.

 

Words carry a certain wattage.

 

They’re loaded with tone and vibration and meaning and intonation and energy. Even how they sound coming out of your mouth will weigh in on how people connect.

 

You think you can just throw up a sentence without the weight of the word weighing in on the purchasing process?

 

One misuse. One incorrect connotation. And the impression is made, regardless of you having a say in it or not.

 

Flop the first impression, become a 'that’s nice' kind of business and expect to never make sales. 

 

You need to spend time choreographing your words. 

 

Just like a dancer hears the music, you heard your message.

 

But unlike the dancer, you aren't finding the right moves to represent your message. 

 

There’s purpose behind every move. Every step. Every shoulder shimmy. 

 

And there's purpose behind every word.

 

Weave your words together so they can carrying your message to your people.

 

That’s the power of articulating your words.

 

You don’t need to get any more clear. 

 

You need to put your dancing shoes on and choreograph your communication.