Ever wondered what a copywriter does all day? Perhaps you’re thinking of pursuing a career as a copywriter or simply want to feel a bit better about your own life?
Whichever is true for you, I thought I’d take half an hour out of my day to enlighten you. So here, with a little zhuzhing for your entertainment, is a day in the life of a copywriter who’s approaching middle age.
Sex, drugs and anaerobic digestion
I start microdosing at 7am. Just a dot of LSD before the kids wake up. 5mgs, give or take, to get the creative juices flowing. That’s followed by half a bowl of Jordan’s Country Crisp topped with blueberries. It’s not performance enhancing, as far as I know. I just like it.
Once the kids are processed and safely dispatched, I then head to the office. The office has all the mod cons – mattress, duvet, memory foam pillow and a small bear. It’s from here that I steer the good ship To Your Heart’s Content (TYHC) to a mediocre income and enough petrol to get me all the way to Aldi.
Getting sassy on the socials
As you can probably see from the TYHC Twitter feed, social media is not something we’re necessarily all over, but when a client asks me to bash out some LinkedIn posts, I dust off my hashtags and get my CTAs ready. Once they’re juicy enough and full of flavour, I leave them to marinate overnight so I can give them a final read-through in the morning.
Proofing yesterday’s work
If I can help it, I never like to send copy over to a client the same day it’s written. Like snow blindness, except without the pain and discomfort, word blindness is real. Proofing my work the next day gives me the chance to look at it fresh and make sure it’s absolutely pie hot before I send it over.
Today, it’s an article for Warner Bros (ahem, name drop) and a couple of car reviews. Pleasingly, all they need is a little smoothing over. I then run them quickly through my good friend Grammarly and start to contemplate lunch.
Everybody needs good Neighbours
In terms of life-changing news, hearing that Neighbours is soon to be taken off the tele is probably inconsequential, but it sure doesn’t feel like it. Given its impending departure from our screens, like the microdosing, I’m rationing myself to just three episodes a week. That means I should still be watching new episodes long into the autumn.
The sex in the rather misleading headline above comes vicariously through Chloe and Kiri, who, despite getting on well, seem to lack chemistry in the bedroom. This high drama is served with a lacklustre lunch of fried eggs on toast and a pack of McCoy’s salt and vinegar crisps.
Back to the grind
After dragging myself back to the office, I fluff my pillows and get to it. Next on the list is an 800-word article about anaerobic digestion. It turns out that anaerobic digestion – turning organic waste into energy – is quite interesting, so I happily immerse myself in sewage for the next couple of hours.
The final job of the day is to rewrite a web page for a startup automated payments provider that’s just about to go live. I write that up ready for proofing tomorrow, slip on my paint-covered shorts and go for a jog. I listen to BBC True Crime’s Finding Kevin Parle as I stagger around the countryside. I’m on episode 21 and they still haven’t found him. I can’t help wondering whether they ever will.