I shipped this with my new Revue. You can get stuff like this delivered. It’ll be fun.
There’s that weird thing how you can be more honest with a total stranger than with most other people in this forsaken world. That’s how it always seems to go. It’s rounding 11:30 at night, last call is in a bit, and you slide your credit card across the bar and tell the bartender how you’ll buy a round for the rest of the souls who are straddling stools.
“I’ve racked up plenty enough as it is,” you tell the strangers, “I’m sure…
Today, I’m launching OutWord because I want to bring a little magic back to the world of copywriting.
A little over four years ago, I was not-so-suddenly laid off from my last full-time job. I worked in digital advertising. It was more ones-and-zeros than it was copy-and-concept — and that sort of bothered me.
You know how it goes: it doesn’t matter what the ad says; we can target it precisely to your dreamboat customer. The entire industry danced around the glory of their 2% conversion rate — and that was at its highest.
There is a place for advertising…
Well then, dear reader, how do I tell you all about the progress I’ve been making when I have spent the past week totally checked out and on vacation?
There are those in my circle who romanticize the “you can travel and work from anywhere” lifestyle. You can see it in the pictures of the laptop, on a beach, drink in hand. It is usually bullshit.
The last place your laptop wants to be is anywhere near a beach. Sand.
Before I left I…
It is Easter morning, this week is supposed to be a vacation. I am in a place without wifi.
For the best, I suppose. This Weeknotes is written on a phone, so links will be limited.
After last week’s unexpected travel, I had to double down on clearing the todos before I left yesterday morning. Why is it I feel like I have to work harder leading up to a vacation? And, even with so many invoices shipped, I still feel like I haven’t done enough?
Designing a copywriting workshop right now. Building it as I go. I asked a…
I keep telling myself this will hold me accountable. Already, I’m a day late in publishing. Here’s the rest.
A while ago I wrote it into every service agreement I could: no more 24-hour turnarounds on copy. I then extended this idea not to feel obligated to get back to anyone about anything within a week. The reasoning: I needed time and sleep to do my best work. If I have to get something back to you by the next day, I haven’t had enough time to, quite literally, “sleep on it.”
This week was evidence of this. A last-minute…
Between daylight savings and the arrival of Spring and the blooming of allergy season, all of the discipline in the world couldn’t keep focus on track this week. Couple all of this with a little road trip getaway at the end of the month, and I’m toast.
This isn’t to say that I haven’t spent time working on my business and the relaunch of my copywriting brand and everything that gets wrapped up in it. …
In the mornings, when I rattle off whatever 1,000 words of fiction are in my head into a running Word file. I click the little “focus” button at the top of my window, and my screen fills with just the window, cursor, and whatever words are already there.
Focus mode is nice. It hides everything else on the screen. The internet fades away. All of the little squiggly lines vanish, all of the formatting buttons go away. Me, the keyboard, and whatever I need to get out onto the page.
The thing about buttons: when you put them in front…
I have a lot of things to do. I think this is better than my usual mantra: I have many things that need doing.
This has been one of those weeks that I’ve been wanting to have since I started freelancing, full-time, four years ago. Many projects on the stovetop, everyone needs a bit of attention, and it’s all a matter of moving the right projects forward at a sufficient enough pace.
We wake up in Eastern Tennessee — Dollywood country — in a little rented cabin up on one of those narrow paved roads called something like “Mountain view drive.” They’re not wrong; the view is extensive. At night, I turned down as many of the lights as possible and looked upward — the sky was crystal clear, the trees still barren from winter.
That I forget the stars are there is a bit of a tragedy. I think back to my boy scout days and try to pick out the celestial bodies I can remember. To the south, the Dog…
A means of holding myself accountable.
Finished A Promised Land. I started this one back in December, leafing through a few pages here and there. It’s a weighty text (700 pages), so it’s not ideal for bedtime — when I do most of my reading. Finally dragged the fucker into bed with me and knocked out the last 500 pages in four days.
Finished Death In Her Hands. Picked this one up not long ago at Malaprops. I’m a sucker for autographed first editions, especially when they are brand new releases. It means the publisher has high hopes for it…