The Descending Copy Ladder to Hell

It's time to talk about it, copywriters. You know what I mean.

A small man descending a small metal ladder that just ends in midair. Other geometric metal sculptures hang nearby.
Photo by Jason W / Unsplash

For my first Writing entry for Inkspiller, I want to address a plague across the world of copy.

I see it everywhere:

first drafts posted to subreddits and forums asking for critique,

landing pages for copywriting courses,

and especially on LinkedIn.

Once you see it, you can’t unsee it.

You may already know what I mean.

This.

This self-important, faux-inspirational shortcut to Good Writing™.

This Descending Copy Ladder to Hell.

No one on Earth naturally writes like this,

and they certainly don’t like reading it.

Except for one group of people.

Copywriters.

And not just copywriters.

Copywriters writing for other copywriters.

Know who you're writing for

The entire point of making a living as a copywriter is to convince people who are not copywriters but need copy written to pay you to write their copy for them, and their audience is not copywriters. It’s mass transit commuters, or Gen Xers who want to improve their heart health, or middle class shoppers who need a new pair of shoes, or pet owners with disposable income.

You know, regular people with regular needs because they lead regular lives. People who have better things to do than hopping on your copy ladder and riding it down to hell.

Our job as copywriters is to resonate with the right audience in the right way at the right time, but most of the time, our copy interrupts something else the audience would rather be doing. A phone call, a meme, a thought about what they want to eat for dinner. We’re asking others to stop thinking about their thing, and to start thinking about our thing. We inherently begin on the back foot.

People want to know that what they're paying attention to will be worth it for them. If you expect them to devote more than half a second to you before you'll even tell them what it is they're paying attention to, you will lose them every time.

Stop doing it.

Unless, of course, you have one very specific audience: aspiring copywriters you intend to scam into forking over three grand for a copywriting course. The Copy Ladderers I see are overwhelmingly copywriters selling copywriting courses to other copywriters. Those copywriters will then use the knowledge gained in that copywriting course to sell another copywriting course to other copywriters, who will then use the knowledge gained in that copywriting course to sell another copywriting course to other copywriters, who will use the knowledge gained in that copywriting course to sell another copywriting course to other copywriters, who will etc etc etc.

At least with a normal pyramid scheme, you end up with a bunch of skin lotions or candles or cutlery you didn’t manage to sell.

Sure, The Descending Copy Ladder To Hell is easy—so easy that even as I was satirizing it above, I subconsciously fell into it. It’s much harder to come up with a message, construct an outline, write it out, and cut word count until there is zero fat left. It’s even harder to deliver that message in a webpage, or an email, or a post, or a headline, or a slogan. Writing, rewriting, reviewing, and editing takes time and focus, which a lot of the “make six figures while working from home” people don’t want to admit.

But it makes for much better copy.

Write with rhythm

Read this, then save it somewhere so you can read it again later:

A classic piece of writing about writing from Gary Provost. It is color-coded for visual effect, but the text communicates the idea on its own, too. The text is: "This sentence has five words. Here are five more words. Five-word sentences are fine. But several together become monotonous. Listen to what is happening. The writing is getting boring. The sound of it drones. It’s like a stuck record. The ear demands some variety. Now listen. I vary the sentence length, and I create music. Music. The writing sings. It has a pleasant rhythm, a lilt, a harmony. I use short sentences. And I use sentences of medium length. And sometimes when I am certain the reader is rested, I will engage him with a sentence of considerable length, a sentence that burns with energy and builds with all the impetus of a crescendo, the roll of the drums, the crash of the cymbals—sounds that say listen to this, it is important. So write with a combination of short, medium, and long sentences. Create a sound that pleases the reader’s ear. Don’t just write words. Write music."

Gary Provost was a writer and instructor who wrote 23 books before his life was unexpectedly cut short in 1995. He wrote biographies, fiction, satire, true crime, and, yes, even some books on freelance copywriting. He wasn’t a novelist, or a copywriter, or a content creatorhe was a writer, who engaged in that craft in a number of ways. He knew what he was talking about.

He’s spot on about varying the length of your sentences, but I’d like to touch upon something else he’s doing well: paragraphs. Whole paragraphs! He couldn’t have known at the time how profound this piece of writing would become simply for using paragraphs, because the Descending Copy Ladder To Hell hadn’t been invented yet.

Now read this:

A screenshot of a LinkedIn post I saw that is a particularly egregious example of the Descending Copy Ladder to Hell. With a line break after literally every full sentence, the copy reads: "My inbox is a warzone.  The flood of messages about my adventure at the New York Auto Show won’t stop.  "What was the highlight? Which brand had the best marketing? Was there a specific car that stole the show?" they prod and poke.  Full stop.  It wasn't the sleek Lamborghini, the fancy Mercedes, the regal Rolls-Royce, or even the antique Cadillac that once belonged to Elvis.  No, it was a Subaru that looked like it had been through a demolition derby.  Seriously.  We're talking about a totaled Subaru.  That's the vivid memory that's branded into my brain.  Feast your eyes on the photo.   There it is, a Subaru in all its battered glory, smack in the limelight of their booth.   Crumpled metal, shattered windows, airbags hanging out like deflated balloons.  Subaru's bold statement?   "We're the top pick when it comes to safety. If there's going to be an accident, you'll want to be sitting in a Subaru."  Blasting out to anyone who’d listen that when it comes to not turning into a human pancake in a nasty crash, Subaru's where it's at.  Mad respect.   Forget the polished chrome, the leather so soft it makes babies' bottoms jealous, or the paint jobs so deep you could dive into them.  Here we have a spectacle of survival.  Just a hood more crunched than a bag of chips, a radiator peeking out like a lost child, and glass that's seen more action than a Hollywood stunt double.  Spinning a tale that sticks with you, easy to get, and impossible to shake off.  Now that, my friends, is how you slay in the marketing game.   Subaru didn’t just show us a car; they gave us a crash course in killer marketing."
Did you skip it? I don’t blame you. I’ve attempted to read this three times and I don’t think I’ve managed to read the whole thing through once.

That’s a whole lot of copy and screen space to say something that the actual booth did better with a single sentence, a compelling visual, and the right context:

A picture of Subaru's booth at the NY Auto show. The highlight is a Subaru that's been in a seemingly very bad accident. The front is completely crumpled in, but the seating area, where the people would be, is more or less okay. The copy on the board behind it says "The Subaru Forester is a Consumer Reports Top Pick for 10 consecutive years."

“The Subaru Forester is a Consumer Reports Top Pick for 10 consecutive years.”

It’s worth pointing out that Mr. Provost’s example above has plenty of space to work with. It isn’t a headline, or an ecommerce product description limited by character count. It’s written on a blank page with as much room as it needs to prove its point. You will rarely have so few limitations in your professional writing.

But that doesn’t mean your professional writing won’t have its own rhythm. All writing has rhythm, because all writing has a reader, and all readers have expectations based on the context of their reading. All writing has a writer, and all writers have a way they want the reader to feel after reading it.

The Descending Copy Ladder to Hell has a rhythm, too.

It starts with an idea,

pauses for a beat,

then finishes it.

And it does this for its entire excruciating length.

That is, technically, a rhythm, but it’s a very limited one. And right now, it’s extraordinarily overused. Any rhythm in writing can be used to serve any purpose for any audience; it all comes down to writer, reader, and context. But this rhythm, with its over-usage, has come to serve one specific purpose: empty online hype. It’s the rhythm of LinkedIn maniacs and cold-email hustlebro grifters. It only attracts the easily-swayed and turns off anyone with anything better to do.

(If you feel “easily-swayed” is an unfair representation of you, well, that means you’re probably easily swayed by this style of writing. You should start trying to spot it, because you may be unknowingly surrounded by people who are trying to part you from your money.)

Learning how to write with rhythm for any context will make you a better writer. If you have no rhythm to your writing at all, then sure, learn the Descending Copy Ladder to Hell. It’s somewhere to start, but there's much more to learn after that. It's shallow, overused to the point of abuse, and rightfully dismissed.

This isn’t complicated.

It isn’t high science, it isn’t magic, and it certainly isn’t poetry.

It’s messaging, and it’s existed since the dawn of communication itself.

Get off the ladder,

and start writing like a normal person.

(I’m doing it again, aren’t I?!)


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If you made it down this far, wow. Thanks. You deserve a little bonus reading, as a treat. I'm really excited for big fruity drinks this summer. I have half a watermelon and two pineapples in my fridge ready to be blended with a little Agave nectar, lime juice, and a mountain of ice. Serve 'em up with a Malibu floater in a fancy glass. Mmmmm.

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