The show kicks off with you getting in touch. I get back to you, quite smartly, under most circumstances, and we talk. We talk about your brand, the project, and what you’re trying to achieve.
Top level stuff.
With the full scope of the work on the table, we talk price. And terms. Once we’re both as happy as a dog with two tails, the show goes on.
We schedule a one-hour call where you bare your brand’s soul and tell me everything I need to know about it. Its history, what it sells, what it does, how and why it does it, where it’s going, how it’s getting there.
Everything.
Warts and all.
If eight years ago you got a speeding ticket on the way to the office, I need to know about it.
You get the idea.
Same with your target market. Who and where are they? What do you think their dreams and fears are? At the end of this stage, I should know your brand better than you know your own spouse.
By the way, I was kidding about the speeding ticket. But not about the spouse.
Next, you leave me alone to work my magic. How long it takes depends entirely on what’s involved, and how often I’m interrupted. Some people start getting a little antsy during this stage. They feel the need to check in on how everything’s progressing.
No need to get your tights in a knot though, the wheels will be in motion and the work will be done before you can say “Stop the press”.
Remember, all good things take time.
Finally, the big reveal. We schedule another call, where I present the finished product with all the smoke and fanfare of a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat. At that point the crowd gasps in awe and wonder (normally).
Once the smoke has cleared and you’ve managed to regain your senses, you pore over the work with your most trusted colleagues. Then you run it by your mum, your spouse, your therapist, your golf caddy, and that cop that gave you the speeding ticket eight years ago.
They all hate it, which is a very good sign.
Accordingly, you put together a list of changes you’d like to see. We discuss said changes and come to an agreement as to what really should and shouldn’t be messed with. I take anything from one to three days to refine the work, and Robert’s your father’s brother – we’re done.
I’m situated in Sydney, Australia. As an Aussie, I’m a native English speaker, though some may disagree. I’m also very familiar with both American and English culture. I’m happy to take on jobs from anywhere around the world though. I am connected by the Internet. I have this technology.
Well, that depends. You see, copywriting jobs are a bit like fish ‘n’ chips. There are large, gourmet fish ‘n’ chips, served on a china plate with butter sauce, trimmings and a cold pint, and there are small, no-frills fish ‘n’ chips tossed in a white paper bag. And quite predictably, large gourmet fish ‘n’ chips are somewhat more posh than small, no-frills fish ‘n’ chips.
But all things considered, you could say that a job might typically be anywhere from the cost of a slap-up meal in the East End with the lads, to the cost of a classic black cab. Suffice to say however, the price of the job is agreed upon to both our satisfaction before any heavy lifting starts.
Free trials? Free trials, you say?
Listen now, let’s sort the buyers from the spiers, the needy from the greedy, and those who trust me from those who don’t. Because if you can’t see value here today, you’re not up here shopping, you’re up here shop-lifting. So on your bike . . . no good standing here gathering dust! Left leg, right leg, we call it walking.
But remember, “too late, too late” will be the cry, when the man with the goods has passed you by! (Yes, that would be a “no”).
In the London underworld, proper etiquette dictates that a professional doesn’t request payment for services until the job has been completed. Unfortunately however, I’m not in the London underworld. Nor do I any longer have at my disposal a heavy Harry to rectify any unwelcome accounting discrepancies.
Ergo, I will ask you to pay 20% of the agreed total copywriting fee up front, just as a gesture that you’re a serious client. Before getting started we will also sign a working contract so that we both know what’s expected of each other. This contract will clearly lay out the terms for payment of the deposit and the balance of the total fee.
I accept payment by bank transfer in Australian dollars (AUD), by PayPal (which by the way, incurs a processing fee), and in some instances, Bitcoin. I provide a tax invoice for all payments.
For those who keep asking, no, I don’t accept payment anymore in gold bullion, cowrie shells, and especially not bags of wheat. That didn’t work out too well last time, and I still have to park my car outside 🙁
Personally, I prefer an inconspicuous rendezvous in the middle of a secluded, dimly-lit bridge. Preferably in the wee morning hours of a cold, misty night – somewhere in an Eastern Bloc country of my choosing. I identify myself from a distance by adjusting the raised lapel of my grey trench coat. We exchange briefcases – mine with the completed work, handwritten on plain white paper. Yours filled with small, non-sequential Euro notes minted no later than 2007. After the exchange and a subtle nod of acknowledgement, we both continue on our way into the night without turning back.
Or, of course there’s email, in any file format you prefer. As long as it’s not anything Apple. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.
The first step is to just get in touch. Head on over to the Contact Me page and leave a message, or drop me an email (the address is in the footer). I’ll get back to you ASAP and we’ll set a meeting time to discuss your project. Once we’re underway we can communicate by phone, email, Zoom, WhatsApp, Signal, or by Morse code on the shortwave band.