The biggest writing mistake people make when they write about themselves & their work
I have news for you—and remember this comes from a decade of swimming in words:
If you are deeply connected to the work you do; if there are a handful of topics in your field that ALWAYS elicit a spicy soapbox rant; if your clients and community members think you’re deeply brilliant and cool; if you believe in what you’re doing; if you’ve studied and trained and worked super hard to deliver the best possible service; if you’re proud of your work…
Then you already have everything you need to write GREAT copy.
Pumpkin Spice Permanent Wave Grunge (or, word salad pt. 1)
Have you heard this term before? It often shows up in debunking spaces, like anti-MLM content, wellness scam exposés, and cult documentaries. Political pundits use it to criticize a candidate’s debate performance—and they also use word salad in their own commentary. What a time!
Word salad can creep into your own writing, too—especially if you have a weird job that’s hard to explain, or you work in coaching, mental health, or wellness spaces where the results you deliver sound vague on the page.
Like everything else in the world of writing (and marketing), intention matters. So does honesty. But we’ll get to that.
The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake
Aside from being a beautiful little story about the connection between food and emotions, and an homage to anyone who sees cooking as a form of self-expression, it’s also a pretty great metaphor for any creative pursuit, including and especially writing.
In most writing mediums, your initial intentions and feelings are only part of the equation. The work is open to interpretation, and that dissonance, that gap, is what makes it art. I discussed this in a different Coffee Break.
But when you’re writing about your work (aka copywriting), there needs to be less of a gap. This is writing that has a very clear intended purpose, and for that reason it needs to be very close to the reader’s mental, emotional, and psychological state.
And that means, among other interesting things that we’ll talk about in future missives, that your reader will pick up on how you were feeling when you wrote what you wrote.
You be Bob Dylan, I'll be. . .
It’s January 25, 1985, and Bob Dylan is choking.
Through a feat of pre-smartphone logistics involving a suitcase full of Rolodexes, FedExed cassette tapes, and Lionel Richie being friends with *literally everyone*, 40 of the decade’s biggest pop stars have gathered IN PERSON to record We Are the World, a charity single to raise money and awareness for African famine relief.
All night long, everyone is doing the most. Producer Quincy Jones is herding cats and checking egos. Cyndi Lauper practically blows the ceiling off. Bruce Springsteen sounds like he’s been gargling broken glass.
There are no managers, no assistants, no glam squads—just a bunch of shit-hot artists trying to hold their own with a bunch of other shit-hot artists.
And Bob Dylan probably belongs in that room more than anyone else.
It’s like his presence legitimizes the whole thing.
No pressure, right? 🤷🏻♀️