Why?

Because we generally don’t have all our eggs in one basket, it means we often have more options than someone who is a full-time employee. If they lose their job, they usually have about a month to find a new one.

Sure, they could go freelance. But building a freelance business takes time and risk, and it is not for everyone. Not every job can be freelance.

This is the second part of a pair. If you read my last piece, Some reflections on Taking a Real Job, this one will make a whole lot more sense.

Losing a job can be catastrophic. We freelancers are fortunate because we can often sniff change in the wind. We have a clearer view of what’s coming than someone who is toiling in the belly of a much bigger machine.

That doesn’t mean catastrophes don’t happen. They do. But the risky business of freelancing teaches you skills and builds resilience for navigating them.

I was able to take an opportunity and make it sort of work with my steady clients. It meant I could, to some degree, have my cake and eat it too.

In theory.

In reality, it’s tough. I’m going to keep sharing more about this because I don’t think the freelance world is honest enough about itself.

Warning: if you like the kind of altruistic toxically-positive stuff you read on LinkedIn, you won’t like this. But if you’d like an antidote, well…

You need a narrative.

If you’ve been freelancing for a while, getting a real job is a big adjustment. In fact, you sort of need to kid yourself. You need to build a narrative that helps you adjust.

In my case, my narrative was that I was doing it for the good of my family. That it was both noble and temporary. That I’d be back doing what I love within a year. That it’s not that bad. That I could make it work because I needed to make it work.

Having a narrative didn’t suddenly make everything bearable, but it gave me something to lean on, and something to push back against. It made it easier to accept the really galling things and the really boring things.

Often, I think saying “a narrative” has an implication of fiction or falsehood. That’s not what I mean. A narrative is just structuring and codifying a story. A narrative gives you direction and a framework.

The alternative is not having a narrative, which means not having any schema to help you navigate and make sense of the world.

Ironically, I think not creating a narrative makes you more susceptible to believing made-up nonsense: that the world is out to get you, that you have more bad luck than anyone else, that a tinfoil hat is a worthy investment.

Other people’s narratives, in other words.

Building your own helps you navigate the world. It stops you falling for LinkedIn bullshit, and it stops you feeling like a failure.

Egos need to be bruised.

I suspect we freelancers have slightly outsized egos compared to our employee friends. Not because we’re better, but because we’re used to being paid for judgement. Our opinions about words and ideas are, quite literally, the product.

That’s why working for someone else can feel like such a shock. Your opinion matters right up until it becomes inconvenient, and then it doesn’t matter at all. You’re not there to be right. You’re there to be useful.

You’ll almost certainly have to do things that feel terrible. Like using ChatGPT intensively because it’s the only way to produce as much guff as the business “needs”. Or doing things a certain way because it’s the only way they’ve ever been done, even when a better way is obvious and achievable.

And usefulness, in a lot of workplaces, means output. It means producing as much guff as the business “needs”, as quickly as it needs it. Sometimes that means using ChatGPT intensively. Sometimes it means doing things a certain way because it’s the only way they’ve ever been done, even when a better way is obvious and achievable.

Sometimes it means you do a crap job of something. Not because you don’t care, but because the machine doesn’t care. Or because you’re tired.

That’s where the bruising comes in.

Egos need to be bruised. Why? Because we need to feel that our ego exists if we’re going to keep it in check. A little bit of pain never hurt anyone, especially when that pain is just a reminder that you can’t always be at your best.

Respect the discipline of adequacy

You’ll probably have coworkers who seem, if not exactly lazy, then certainly not inclined to “give it their all”.

That’s not how I, nor most freelancers, operate. We work close to full intensity and we care a lot about the result. Compared to the general working populace, we take it so seriously we start to think about work in terms of purpose and calling.

Doing that in a job, especially one you only see as temporary, will burn you out.

There’s a strange kind of discipline in being adequate. Doing your job, and very little more than your job. Showing up and clocking off as per contracted hours. Taking breaks even when it inconveniences someone else. Fulfilling your role as per the job description.

Adequacy isn’t apathy. It’s self-preservation.

Because doing your role should be enough. If it’s not, even the best-case explanation is that the job description wasn’t accurate. That happens surprisingly often and, I suspect, by design.

But ultimately it’s someone else’s business. And it’s worth thinking about whether the business, your leadership team, the organisation as a whole, puts anything extra into you. Perhaps you get unlimited time off, an Eames chair, and an annual pay rise.

I doubt it.

No employer is obligated to go above and beyond, so neither are you. If you find one who really does, go for your life. But if you have any intention of returning to freelancing, you need to look out for yourself.

Being adequate - satisfactory or acceptable in quality or quantity - is all you need to do. Being adequate is how you survive.

Save your best for the things you really love.

Time, but not as we know it

It took me ages to learn that freelance work has a very different relationship with time.

I generally charge day rates with my clients, and most are split into two half days, two four-hour blocks. My ideal mix is three full days in a week, split between different clients.

It will never add up to the standard 40-hour working week. It just can’t. I can’t.

You could read endlessly about why freelancers shouldn’t charge hourly, and the big reason is that we usually produce quality over quantity. We get the luxury of skipping most of the unnecessary stuff. We get to put efficiency and effectiveness above the various other things the complexity of a workplace tends to bring.

That comes at an energy cost.

It also means we get rusty when it comes to managing our energy across the length of an entire working day. I don’t think anyone gets worse 3.30-itus than a freelancer who’s just taken a normal job.

And that doesn’t just apply to a typical 9 to 5. The job I took was 24 hours a week. My theory was that I’d still have two full days of freelance work left in me each week.

I was very wrong.

I had just enough energy for one more full freelance day, which was already booked by a regular client. That took me to 32 hours a week, which is close to what I’d call Freelance Maximum.

Here’s the part that’s hard to explain until you’ve lived it. Freelance time is compressed. A few days of deep freelance work can feel like a full working week, because it’s more concentrated. Most workplaces stretch effort out to fill the container. There’s admin, politics, process, and a strange obligation to be seen as under the pump and suffering for it.

Freelancing is less theatrical: it’s just work.

How many of you can freelance five full days a week? I know I can’t.

But I kept trying. I kept saying yes to things, then squeezing them into evenings, holidays, and lunch breaks.

That, my friends, is absolutely. Not. A. Good. Way. To. Do. It.

So why did I do it?

Because anyone who knows the feast-and-famine ways of freelance existence knows the fear, too. I was terrified that stopping my work would mean I’d never be able to start again.

That feeling isn’t wrong, but it is a little off.

If you want to get back to freelancing, you have to start thinking ahead. Which brings me to the next section.

Don’t let your pipeline dry up

If at all possible, keep yourself open to new work and new clients. This is really hard, and it might not be possible for everyone. But your journey back to freelancing will be a slippery uphill one if you’re not careful.

That doesn’t mean taking on more work and stretching yourself impossibly thin. It means being clear and firm with yourself about what you actually have time for. It means establishing rules and systems that keep you focused.

If you have to turn down work, say it’s because you’re at capacity, then recommend someone else. Make a note to follow up when you can.

Of course, I am a sucker for punishment. If a project is inconvenient but achievable, it’s probably worth doing, especially if there’s long-term potential.

But it’s more important to keep your website and portfolio moving. Keep posting on LinkedIn. Keep running your newsletter if you possibly can. Even if your actual capacity is minuscule, keep your business alive.

You’ll thank you later.

I’ll be back with more ramblings soon - and we’ll be back with another episode of BRAVE NEW WORD next week.

Subscribe now

In the meantime, please keep sending your questions and content requests, or post them as comments here.

H

Humans are so instinctively afraid of losing that it means we have an inherent bias against subtraction.

Nerds call it additive bias. I stumbled across the idea in this video, which gave me both Lego nostalgia and a sudden brainwave about creative problem-solving.

Think about it: which do you find easier, addition or subtraction? Which one do you find more interesting?

Which is more positive - literally, and which is more negative? Even the symbols reinforce our bias.

It turns out we’ve got a big blindspot when it comes to solving problems. Because you see, for all our brains, we suck at solving problems where the answer is to take something away.

That might go some way to explain why so many of us love simple, clean ideas. They seem somehow harder to achieve. We subconsciously appreciate the skill it must take to cut away, even if we don’t really know that’s what’s happening.

Puff adders

On the other hand, additive bias could also explain why grifters and “intellectuals” love making things more complicated than they need to be.

Think about, oh, for example…Jordan Peterson. If you’ve ever heard the guy speak, you’ll know what I mean.

Or perhaps Russell Brand, whose appeal was largely a kind of naughty pseudo-philosophical locquaciousness that, in its purest form, created a mirage, if you will, of perspicacity that, in the eyes of the casual viewer or perhaps the powers that be, the man, the establishment, could be seen to be discrepant vis-a-vis his eclectic rockstar bohemian aesthetic.

Adding stuff - words, complexity, bullshit - is a pretty effective way of making yourself look smart, and therefore make your ideas look smarter.

But it doesn’t last, and I think that’s for one simple reason:

It makes your ideas very difficult to repeat.

Extra sticky

One thing I think is missing from Chip & Dan Heath’s “sticky ideas” framework is repeatability.

Sure, it’s woven into a few of the principles, but I think it needs more attention. Because a lot of great, sticky ideas are expressed in a way that makes it easy for us to repeat to others. They’re expressed so beautifully that the words can change but the message is clear.

Or perhaps it’s simply easy to quote it to someone, like a great tagline or a proverb.

But if your idea is wrapped up in a bunch of complex language, or it interweaves a bunch of complex theories, or it takes an entire podcast episode to ‘explore’, you might have a problem.

When you speak or write in a way that dances on the edge of comprehensibility, you’ll come across as smart. Your audience has to do some work to make sense of what you’re saying, and they’ll waver between feeling stupid and feeling smart.

And once they’re in that zone, you’ve got a lot of power. Skilful bullshitters - cult leaders, Peterson, Brand, any number of self-help gurus and manfluencers - know how to use that power. They know how to keep their audience engaged by adding more and more, luring them in further with the promise of moving from stupid to smart.

But when it comes to repeating those ideas, things come unstuck. Because if they really like your idea and want to tell someone else, the best they can say is “oh man, you should check out his YouTube channel” or “did you hear his Joe Rogan interview?”.

Which means that, in the end, your audience doesn’t remember your ideas: they remember you.

And while that might work (…) for celebrities, that’s not what we creative problem solvers want at all.

How to practise subtraction

Like any skill, it’s something you need to work at. Here are a few exercises I recommend is one thing to practise:

Cut Too Deep.

Take something you’ve written and hack it to pieces. Take out all of the fluff. Go beyond bare bones. Remove whole chunks. Make unreadable. Break.

Then, add. Word by word. Until every word works.

You shouldn’t always write like this. But it’s worth seeing just how much you can cut away and still get the idea across.

It’s not revolutionary advice. I am not claiming anything like it.

But I do find it useful as a lens, because sometimes being told to cut things away just feels like a maxim, a thing we’re supposed to do, rather than as a technique we can use and master.

Reframe editing as a problem to be solved, and subtraction as a tool, we’re that little bit closer to mastery.

It also frees us up to make big controversial calls. Forget cutting every ‘that’: what if you just lop off that whole paragraph? In fact, what about the whole idea: how much fat could you trim from it before it starts to look a little wan?

On the other side of that coin, this is not to say that everything can be solved by subtraction. We need a clear eye on the purpose: subtracting for style can mean you never actually say what you need to say. There might be times where you need to add new bits, add depth, add detail.

But try this: make subtraction the first tool you reach for. Wield it on anything you write today. Cut it back to its bare minimum, and then see what you have to work with.

Chances are, you’ll be moving away from what you want to say and closer to what your reader needs to read.

Part time, local, decent pay. It meant I could keep freelancing with the security of a steady income should all else fail. This is important when you are trying to, for example, buy a house. It was the right thing at the right time.

But it was also unimaginably shit. I caught a violent case of Mondayitis. My health and fitness got knocked to the mat. My ego and my mental health took an even bigger hit. It even affected my social life.

This year, I’m fortunate enough to return to full-time freelancing. Rather than putting 2025 into a Things I Don’t Want To Talk About file, I realised I ought to do something positive. Sharing my experience might help someone else who finds themself facing a freelancer’s worst nightmare: taking a real job.

How it started

Having to get a real job is a situation I am sure most freelancers will face at least once in their career. The peaks and troughs of working for yourself can be very spiky and sometimes life requires something steady.

By a ‘real job’, I mean a pretty ordinary job. Run of the mill, let’s say. We’re not talking about your ‘dream job opportunity’ here. It could be like a job you had in the past, or it could be a new industry. The sort of situation that makes you go “well, if needs must…”.

My situation? I’m not a fan of sharing much personal stuff on the internet, so I’ll keep this broad. But when you’ve got a family and you live in New Zealand, you face extraordinary pressure to buy a house. That’s pretty hard to do as a freelancer.

Compounding things, business really began to slow in 2024: blame a poor economy, AI, whatever - it was starting to look bleak. New projects were getting smaller and taking longer, and nobody seemed interested in retainers or long-term engagements.

A friend, who had just taken over leadership in a local business, shoulder tapped me to apply for a marketing role. She was aware of the situation and genuinely wanted to help, and while I was wary of working with a friend, I decided to go for it.

The Okay, the Bad, and the Ugly

Just to manage your expectations, this is not going to be a full exposé about a toxic workplace or corporate malfeasance.

Firstly, it wasn’t that bad.

Secondly, the reality is that any job you take will be broadly okay. There will be crap and politics and toxicity, but there will also be laughter and good people. And a regular payment into your bank account.

So I’m not going to dunk on the place, but I’m also not going to name it. If you figure it out, keep it to yourself.

It was a marketing role, though it quickly became yet another example of a job that exists almost entirely outside its description. Of the ten bullet points in the ‘role requirements’ section, I spent 90% of my time on just one: “other tasks as required”. Almost all of that was fixing problems with automations and platforms.

In fact, ChatGPT did most of the work I wanted to do and wrote 99% of everything this business published. I spent so much time on the systems stuff, and the content requirements were so vast, that ChatGPT was the only way I could tick off the other 9 bullet points on the list.

I got very good at prompting it, and a very good look at its limitations.

This, I fear, is what a lot of Real Jobs are becoming. For one thing, ChatGPT and Gemini are absolutely useless at ‘creative problem solving’. From slightly off to downright misleading, their solutions to most problems were totally wrong.

The result is that we humans fixed the computer things, and the computer thing did the human work.

Unfortunately, my complaints amounted to little more than screaming into the void. It was more than a little scary to see how much some businesses already rely on ChatGPT et. al. for their marketing and communications. Scary stuff.

The good

There were some positives, of course. An overseas trip. Learning about a different industry. Seeing with my own eyes just how much people loved the product. Meeting genuinely lovely people that I would never otherwise encounter.

There was another big positive: we did manage to buy a house. The steady employment facilitated a big life moment. The selfish part of me, which felt like I had made a dutiful sacrifice rather than an empowering choice, could pipe down.

The ends justified the means.

The ego battle

One of the hardest things was trying to rebalance my ego. While I’d like to call it something like “skills and experience” or even better “expertise”, it’s probably fairer to call it ego.

I’m no brain scientist but my basic understanding of an ego is that it’s your sense of self, or your understanding of what separates you from everyone else. Part of that is your self-worth, which - in a work sense - we freelancers need plenty of.

Being a successful freelancer requires a good sense of self and self-worth. It gives you the confidence to do good things, to show people how good those things are, and to then talk about those good things so that more people talk to you.

It’s in a your own interest to do better, which is why so many great freelancers rise to the top of their fields. Freelancers can own more of their success.

But a real job requires rebalancing your ego quite significantly. You’re still the same valuable person, but your value to your employer is a much more complex equation.

Working for someone else is like having to keep a fire going: you just keep putting bits of wood in, they keep burning, and you do it forever.

Sure, you might come up with better ways of putting wood into that fire. You might design the world’s most efficient method of putting wood into that fire, some kind of complex honeycomb system that burns for 11% longer than the ‘chuck it and see’ method.

But an employer does not care how artfully you stack. An employer does not (even if it says so in the job ad) want someone who is a creative problem solver. An employer loves your enthusiasm but wants to you research better-burning woods in your own time. An employer will not take it well if you ignore the way they want something done, even if the result is promising.

Why? Because they wear the risk if it falls apart. An employer certainly does not want to hear you say that a heat pump would be more efficient.

They just want someone who keeps that fire burning.

That’s why your valuable self doesn’t matter. Most of the time, what an employer values is the role, not the person.

This could be because job descriptions are perpetual, while most freelance work has an end point.

For a freelancer, it can be really hard to get used to a job that is never ‘finished’. I love a finish line. Project based work suits me. Even with my long-term clients, it’s all about projects.

There’s no easy way to say this: if you live for the handover, a real job is going to be a challenge. Prepare yourself for working on - and probably never really finishing - a million things at once. Prepare yourself for compromising on most of them, too, and for having to go with the MVP rather than polished perfection.

How I got out

Only a couple of months into the job, I got a call from someone at an agency I’ve worked with a few times, asking whether I could take on more work. It was all a bit vague, but I - importantly - said “maybe”.

How I was going to make it work, I do not know, but I think “maybe” is an important tool to wield.

It took about 9 more months for something to come of that phone call. Phone calls begat meetings begat a proposal begat, eventually, a contract.

But what’s important about this story is that it’s like a cicada life cycle. Because, you see, what popped to the surface in November of 2025 started life many moons ago. The client got my details from a creative director I haven’t worked with for years. Then, when a different agency mentioned me, they decided to get in touch.

Those eggs were laid years ago (I think that’s how cicadas work). That passive voice is intentional: this is not work I was actively looking for. But, by doing a few good jobs and by staying in touch with different CDs/agencies even without work on, I stayed top of mind.

That’s advertising 101.

The opportunity was a surprise and yet it was also the very long-term pay off. Don’t neglect those networks, and stay visible. Even if you’re going full-time, try to keep an eye out for future you.

And if you’re reading this and not even considering a job, heed the advice anyway. Try to plant seeds (or lay eggs?) everywhere you can, and then nurture them. Stay in touch. Check in every year with an email. Pop into the office and say hello, or meet for a coffee.

There is quite literally not a single reason not to.

Why I kept it quiet

When I accepted the job, I told as few people as possible. Partly it was embarrassment. I didn’t want to have those conversations about how times are tough, probably because it felt like failure. This might all be in my head, but I’m pretty sure it’s not unusual.

Looking back, I spent the last year pretty depressed. Waves of it would hit me on Sunday evenings and last at least a couple of days. A lot of the things I value about freelancing went out the window because I lacked the time and the energy.

One of those things was weightlifting. I love weightlifting: the zen-like total focus, the chance to exercise my body rather than my mind, the primal thrill of moving big bits of steel around. But I pretty much gave it up, going to the gym once a month if I was lucky. It became a negative cycle, because I started going backwards, which killed my motivation.

Likewise, music took a back seat. One of my break rituals as a freelancer has always been to pick up a guitar and play a song or just noodle around, but that stopped. It felt like my hands atrophied, and my ears.

Long-distance cycling also stopped entirely. Cooking for anything other than an impending meal. Lying down on the floor to think.

This is all sounding a bit dark, but it’s meant to be a cautionary tale. Because I really was trying to have my cake and eat it too: I never really accepted life as it was, which meant I kept trying to live in a way that wasn’t working.

Had I accepted the situation and adapted to it, I probably would have felt a lot happier - and had the energy to keep doing at least some of what I love.

One strange feeling that crept in was guilt, and it crept in through a strange spot: the Brave New Word podcast. It’s corny, but I felt like I was doing a disservice to anyone who listened. I was pretending I was in freelance bliss while actually, I was in a real job and pretty deep depressive pit. It also felt wrong to be giving advice because I felt like a fraud. Call it heightened impostor syndrome.

It’s probably also because I know that media - especially the social kind - really distorts how we perceive the world. Everyone looks happy, beautiful and successful. We rarely see failure or even just normalcy, especially on LinkedIn. I didn’t like that I was contributing to that for the sake of preserving my brand.

I’m probably not at “apologising to strangers” stage yet. But I do intend to do better from now on by being more candid and thoughtful in what I write and share. Young, fresh-faced freelance me would have appreciated reading that kind of stuff.

You’ll be okay.

If you are standing on the precipice of taking a real job, or you’re actively looking for one, I don’t have any powerful motivational quotes or advice. I just want to say one thing:

You’ll be okay.

It might feel like you’re giving up. Worse, like you’re losing part of yourself. I realised how much my identity was tied to my freelance business. For better or worse, being a freelance copywriter is a big part of how I see myself and the world. Taking that job rocked me to the core. I felt like I was losing my ability to write, exacerbated by having to use ChatGPT all day, every day in the job.

I found it really hard. I don’t think many people really understand it. No matter how patient and loving the people around you are, it’s impossible to understand how crap it feels to take a real job when you’ve been a freelancer.

I was fortunate that an opportunity came up, and I was fortunate it meant I could ditch the job with my wife’s apprehensive but forever supportive blessing.

It took a year, and I still say that’s lucky. You might be in it for a longer haul.

But you’ll be okay.

Feel free to comment below or reach out if you’re in the throes of taking a real job. Especially if you’re feeling those dark clouds descending: I’ve been there, so let’s talk.

Sneaking this episode out just before the Big Day - and it’s an absolute doozy.

We get a question from the A-list writer and all-round clever guy Bob Bly, who wants to know why the heck copywriters are rebranding as something vague and possibly meaningless.

There’s also some very, very good hate mail, late night ramblings and a question chosen by Gemima that, for some reason, I found really annoying.

My apologies to whoever actually asked it…

Thanks to all who listened to us in 2025 and for all who intend to keep listening in 2026.

I hope you get some epic presents. In fact - tell us your best present in the comments and we might do a top 10 gift wrap up (unwrapped?) in early 2026.

Cheers and good cheers,

Hayden & Martin

Hello, people of the Brave New Word.

We’re back with a big, beautiful, sad and fascinating question from an anonymous listener who is petrified of AI - and also afraid of being left behind by not embracing it.

This is really the meat and potatoes of these AI of the Storm episodes. Because the reality is, AI is here, and it has changed and will continue to change the world around us. Throw your shoes in the machine all you like: that machine will spit out poorly-made knockoff shoes for free, and a lot of people will gladly wear those shoes and say they’re absolutely brilliant and anyone who still pays for shoes is a moron.

But the reality is that it’s not a binary thing. There’s not Before AI and After AI. The world is still, actually, mostly the same. People are mostly the same. Words are mostly the same. People still have stuff to buy and sell. People are starting to realise those knockoff AI shoes are even flimsier than this metaphor.

One of the best things you can do (in any situation, really) is to know your enemy. That’s why, in this episode, we recommend at least learning a bit about AI. Sticking your head in the sand has some merits, but ultimately, ignorance never serves anyone particularly well.

We also dish out a fair bit of waffly other advice, and to be honest, I’ve forgotten a lot of it since we recorded the episode. I guess that means you’ll just have to listen to it.

As always, please keep sending us your questions, comments and more.

Oh - and please spread the word about Brave New Word. Send this email to your friends. Have BNW listening parties in your coworking space. Bonus points for the most creative/obnoxious promo. I might get Martin to send you a bottle of wine or something.

Until next time!

-H

In this episode, Martin gets his passion project torn to shreds by Charlie “Danny Dyer” GPT. It might be my favourite moment in this podcast, ever.

But the critique doesn’t stop there. We munch on some humble pie and answer the question:

What’s your worst trait as a copywriter?

I won’t give away the answers (it’s a podcast, listen to the thing!) but it turns out we’re rather similar in our faults.

It can be pretty uncomfortable to put yourself on the other side of the desk and criticise not just your work, but your entire way of working. But being able to identify and own your bad habits as a writer is important: it’s the only way you’ll ever keep a handle on them.

We also talk a little about my book (it’s a work in progress) and we put our Agony Aunt hats on and help someone face up to a real challenge: how to manage an unwanted and very annoying-sounding house guest.

Until next episode,

H

We asked Charlie (ChatGPT) and, true to form, he gave the fence-sitting answer: “It depends on your brand, audience, and context.”

Equivocal answers are not our bag but, despite this, we kept Charlie on the staff.

Martin’s take was simple: don’t do it. As a classic, occasionally foul-mouthed Brit, he’d tested it on his email list. Even when it sounded more like his actual way of speaking, people did not like it. Swear words generated more complaints than anything else he’d written. And the man writes a lot.

He brought up the comedian Frank Skinner. Many of Skinner’s funniest routines were, in his own words, knob jokes. In his repertoire, a veritable butcher’s window of prime profanity. But as an experiment he cut all of the swearing from his live shows, and found audiences loved it just as much. Now he’s put the swearing back in, but it’s sprinkled throughout: a seasoning, rather than the main course.

My take (as in the episode) is that, if you have to stop and think carefully about whether to swear, it’s already contrived and you should take it out. Copy is considered language, not instinctive blurting. Planned profanity does not work in copy.

Except.

Swearing without swearing

Since that episode, I keep coming back to the time when KFC said FCK.

When KFC’s entire UK arm ran out of chicken, they ran a full-page ‘apology’ ad. It was simply their iconic bucket with their logo rearranged to spell FCK.

It remains one of my favourite campaigns of all time.

The reason it works is because there is no swear word. It’s a finger-lickin’ paragon of minding the gap, one of my favourite topics: the joke only works because the audience has to fill in the (literal) missing piece. The word is created in the mind of the reader. They shock themselves, in a way.

It also works because it’s KFC, and they’re good at cheeky, and pulled off self-deprecating in a way few brands are brave enough to try.

Other brands have played with the idea. Strangely, the examples that come to mind are also purveyors of greasy food: Burger King gave it a go by using ‘king’ as a fragment, as in, ‘f**king delicious’:

You might not believe this, but it’s not even close to Burger King’s worst ad.

Wendy’s tried it with ‘Son of Baconator’, using a bleep to make the audience fill in the gap. It sort of works, but is nowhere near as artful or memorable as the KFC campaign. In fact, I’d say it’s terrible. But that’s a topic for another day.

Ultimately, it’s the implication that we respond to, rather than the word itself. Why?

It’s in your head

Pop psychologist Steven Pinker (among others, I’m sure) argues that taboo words get their power because they bypass rational thought tap into our primal response. In speech, that’s what gives swearing its punch.

But in copywriting, words aren’t fleeting. They linger on the page and lingering robs profanity of its punch. In speech, the word evaporates and the post-shock tingle remains. In writing, the word remains to be re-read and diluted.

Of course, it happens in speech when that speech is part of a media production. Scale matters, saturation matters, even reruns and repeats matter. Think about how Gordon Ramsay has become a caricature of himself and sweary chefs. Or how Quentin Tarantino dialogue is now just a parody of Quentin Tarantino dialogue. So far I’ve focused on print, but these are cautionary tales for audio and visual ads, too.

It’s more than just over-use. It’s because swearing is a very cheap and easy way to get attention. We copywriters know all about cheap and easy ways of getting attention, and should be above all of them. In all but a few circumstances, swearing is a sign of lazy writing.

Beer pressure

It’s worth noting that as a working copywriter, you’re almost never asked to swear. I can’t think of a single brief that’s told me profanity is OK, much less given an instruction to use it.

At best, it sneaks into a brainstorm, when someone who’s had a few beers says, “What if we went really edgy?” And that may be how the KFC idea started, who knows. But in practice, it rarely makes it out of that room. Because when the moment comes to commit words to print or script or screen, a swearword almost never feels like the smartest choice. Write drunk, edit sober, as they say.

If you’ve been presented with a brief that condones and/or encourages swearing, that is a big red flag. If it’s an idea you’ve had yourself to make something edgy, stop. You’re being lazy and you can do better.

Please, just don’t

Back in the pilot, Martin and I came down hard on “don’t do it”. I think we were mostly right.

The exception—and it truly is an exception—is when the swearword is inseparable from the creative idea. Even then, you need to mind the gap: the word itself should never appear anywhere except in your reader’s head.

If you want to hear the full back-and-forth (including Charlie’s overly long verdict), the episode’s here: Listen to BNW Episode 1.

Enjoy this? Forward it to someone and encourage them to subscribe!

Share BRAVE NEW WORD HQ

This episode starts with a cracker of a question: when should one take the plunge into freelancing?

We talk not just about the obvious stuff (money, leads, clients), but some of the things most of us discover after we’ve taken the plunge (time off, mode of work, loneliness).

Navigating the peaks and troughs is one of the hardest things about being a freelancer - and managing the transition to that from a steady/insanely busy job can be tougher than you might expect.

Fortunately, Martin and I are incredibly wise and offer several thimblefuls of our sage advice.

We also answer what is probably our first question from a non-copywriter. Yes, turns out we have ‘mass appeal’. The question is about beer and curry, and I’m sure you’ll have your own thoughts on this one.

As ever, keep those questions coming in - we love to ‘ave ‘em.

Ka kite ano,

Hayden

My favourite feature returns: hate mail corner! Only this time, it’s also an AI of the Storm question.

Judge Dredd (I believe the real guy, not some impostor) calls us Podcast Idiots, cretins and — even worse — Australians.

But His Honour finishes it off by asking a great question:

Anybody can see that copywriters need to resist the rise of AI intelligence [sic]. How are they going to do it, and what form is it going to take?

I won’t give away our answer here. But let’s just say this episode is hardly wartime propaganda, because as much as we’d all like to give the AI overlords a swift kick in the dick, there’s probably a better way to hold the higher ground.

As mentioned in the episode, everybody should check out Felicity Wild’s Writers Against the Algorithm.

That’s all for now - keep those questions and that hate mail coming.

Especially you, Judge Dredd. Love you.

H

It’s about to get silly.

In this episode, we begin with a serious question: what’s the biggest mistake copywriters make?

(Yes, astute viewers will notice I mentioned that in last week’s summary, but I got it wrong. Sorry.)

Then, things get weird in really British way. We answer a question that combines strange children’s TV and public transport. I'll say no more.

Oh, and sorry about the audio - will hopefully have it sorted before we record next time.

Regardless, please enjoy, send us your questions, and share this podcast to your heart’s content!

H

Sorry for the interruption, but sometimes life gets in the way.

The good news is we’re back, answering more of your questions and giving you the life advice you need/deserve.

We talk about novel writing, a book in the works, and a perfect night in…so, the standard stuff.

We also have a bit of a technical meltdown, so my apologies for the audio being a bit crappy in places.

Oh, and in case you think “ugh, they’ll disappear again for months”, we actually recorded TWO EPISODES in a single sitting - so the next one will be out very soon indeed.

In the meantime, enjoy and please do stay in touch. Send us your questions, comments, feedback, complaints, requests, secrets, money, praise, etc.

Until next time,

H

I need your help.

You see, I’m writing my first book (start as you mean to go on), and I need some audience input.

I don’t want to give away too much just yet. But let’s just say that it’s sitting somewhere between a practical guide and a creative philosophy for writers.

Oh, and of course, it deals with AI.

You might have gathered from the podcast that I’m really not one to land on either side of the fence with AI. I definitely think it’s a little scary. I definitely think it’s made by conscienceless assholes with chips on their shoulders and a deep loathing of anyone who has a remotely healthy relationship with their own soul.

But I also think it’s useful, I think it’s already here, and I think it’s important to understand—especially if you’re a writer.

Rest assured: this is not going to be an AI writing manual. I’m not interested in that. In fact, my somewhat ambitious plan is to write something we writers can use to strategically beat AI into submission.

I’ve learnt some pretty interesting things so far, like why ChatGPT can’t hit word counts and why it hallucinates.

But I’ve had enough of talking to Charlie, Gemima and Claude. I want to talk to some real people.

Here’s what I'd love to get from you:

1. Things you still find challenging about writing

2. Tricks and techniques you use in your writing process

3. Things you wish [copy]writing books covered, but don’t

4. Things you wish someone told you sooner about writing

5. Things you think AI is actually pretty good at

6. Things you’re worried AI will soon be better than you at

7. Questions you have about how AI actually works

Heck, I’d even love to just have a yarn about the book.

Everything is completely confidential if you email me. Otherwise, just comment on this post if you don’t mind it being public.

Right, I’d better get back to it.

Enjoy - and we’ll be back with a podcast very soon, once Martin is back from yet another holiday…

H

Listening back to this episode for the edit, I realised that we really didn’t come up with a great answer for this question. We get a bit wishy washy, I say ‘umm’ a lot, and we get a little into the weeds.

But that’s because it’s about ethics, and ethics is a bit murky and umm-inducing. As if we copywriters didn’t have enough to worry about, we now have some ethical minefields. Don’t use AI, and you might fall behind your competitors. Use AI and be hoisted by your own petard, or tarred and feathered, or some other kind of medieval punishment.

Ultimately, the only thing you can do is trust your ‘ick’.

We also give a shout out to a very important listener, and offer up some TOTALLY FREE LINKEDIN CONTENT.

That might be overselling it, but I’ll let you be the judge (you’ll have to listen to the episode to make that call).

Please keep sending us your AI-related questions, or even just…any question at all, really. Copywriting, life advice, complaints (it’s been a while since we had any hate mail).

Enjoy.

H

If you missed the memo (I don’t understand how; each email from us is unmissable), you can read the brief here:

Suffice it to say: we had some chewy, delicious submissions.

We won’t reveal the winner in this written update - you’ll need to listen to the episode for that.

Until next time,

Spread the word about the Brave New Word!

H

Well, Hayden’s been busy moving house and I’ve been sunning himself in warmer climes, but rest assured we'll be back with the pod next week - when Y-Fronts judging will take place. (If you haven't already get your entry in!)

So, today you'll have to make do with some written content rather than us warbling.

And I'd like to talk about the dark depths of people's lives.

Jolly, eh?

But this is important, as it's often forgotten in copy - especially if you're a positive person. And I find most copywriters are, even when times are tough.

Sure, you have your stresses and strains. But you also know an opportunity when you see one and are prepared to work hard to make your life better.

However, it’s not that way for most people.

They tend to have a more passive approach to life, which can cause much misery.

That can mean they’re stuck in dead-end 9-5 jobs, in relationships without love and support, and with old friends they don’t like any more.

They also have bad diets, bad habits and bad health.

And you must remember this when it comes to marketing, especially if you tend to look on the bright side of life. As it’s tempting to think that everybody else is like that.

It’s not. For many, life is glum and dark.

So, when it comes writing and selling to people, you need to acknowledge that. Don’t get me wrong, a bit of positivity is great – it can be inspirational. But you can’t always be Tigger...

Sometimes, you must meet them down in the depths – and sympathise with their plight – then offer some sort of salvation that’ll make their lives better.

See you soon.

- Martin

What the hell are you talking about?

Oh, you haven’t heard about our Y-Fronts? Well, it’s pretty simple: they’re small briefs for a bit of fun.

Read the brief, have a think, and then send us your copy. You’ve got a couple of weeks, because copywriters need deadlines. We’ll round them up and read the best ones on the next podcast.

How? You can comment here, reply to the email, or contact Martin at mail@mscopy.co.uk.

Easy!

Here's your brief:

Business Name: MEAT CUTE

Business Description: MEAT CUTE makes traditional South African Biltong for the modern world. It was started by butcher Gemma Gray, who firmly believes the meat market is too much of a sausage fest.

Business Problem: MEAT CUTE’s products are getting rave early reviews, but they don’t want to target the traditional ‘beers and barbecues’ crowd. They’ve identified that women are a key target audience and love the product.

MEAT CUTE’s branding is far more ‘feminine’ than any competitor, with softer tones and more elegant design. They need a tagline that ties together the branding and the product without sounding like protein-obsessed gym junkies or beer-bellied boofheads.

Brief: Write a tagline MEAT CUTE can use on packaging and billboards. It needs to tie together the product, the brand and Gemma’s anti-sausage-fest values.

And, since I’m a bit of a legend, I’ve mocked up Meatcute’s logo for you:

That should get you going.

OK so what do we do again?

For goodness’ sake. Come up with a brilliant tagline, then simply comment with your solution on this post, or email it to us. Simple as that!

Best examples will get read aloud on the next episode of Brave New Word.

My mouth is already watering.

-H

Another edition of our miniseries THE AI OF THE STORM, this time with a very intriguing question indeed: Can AI understand emotion and persuasion the way humans do?

It’s a yes/no question but not a yes/no answer, when you really get down to it.

I mean…how well do we understand emotion and persuasion? How useful is our understanding? How consciously and deliberately do we use that understanding?

Charlie really delivers a pretty darn good answer in this episode. Because if there’s one thing AI is good at, it’s being analytical - and self aware. We could probably learn a thing or two from Charlie…

Keep your AI-related questions coming. We’ll be back soon with more content - and Y-Fronts fans, stay tuned for your next brief, which will be coming your way via email very soon…

H

Brand voice is a funny old thing. On the one hand, it’s meant to be the key to authenticity. On the other hand, it is kinda…meaningless.

In this episode, we answer an excellent question about balancing consistency with creativity. It’s perhaps one of the trickiest and least well-understood facets of the job for copywriters: on the one hand, you have to be ‘in character’, but on the other hand, you need to have a bit of creative freedom to suggest doing things differently.

By way of example, shout-out to friend of the show Lewis Folkard, and hero of the show David Abbott:

https://lewisfolkard.co.uk/ad-breakdown-volvos-if-the-welding-isnt-strong-enough-the-car-will-fall-on-the-writer/

We also answer another good question: what novel should every copywriter read? It’s safe to say that the robots struggled with this one - Martin even got into a fight with Gemima…

Until next time, IGNORE THE VOICES (at least until you start getting into trouble).

H

Back to normal programming! This time we answer a question about that most insidious client behaviour: not paying the f&$%ing invoice.

Pretty much every freelancer has experienced this at one time or another. If you haven't yet, you will: it’s the nature of the beast.

But while it’s pretty much unavoidable, there are things you can do to protect yourself, and channels you can use to get what is rightly yours.

We’re not going to give away those insights in writing, but let’s just say, one of the answers rhymes with “jet reflectors”.

It’s not all about thugs in leather jackets, though. We answer a surprisingly tricky question: what’s the world’s best breakfast? Unsurprisingly, those robots really take that question literally, while Hayden dithers and dallies and Martin tells a story in which he really, well, makes a meal out of getting breakfast.

Thanks all, and stay tuned for another edition of AI OF THE STORM next week!

H

Welcome! This is the first in a new series for us: The AI of the Storm.

It’s all about the hot topic at the moment: AI copywriting. Specifically, it’s about how we as copywriters can, should and shouldn’t use AI tools.

In this episode, Martin and I answer for ourselves: how and why do we use AI?

Spoiler alert is that we both use it. You’ll have to listen to the episode to learn how and why.

But even now, I feel a little worried about admitting that.

Because there’s a lot of fear and stigma out there about copywriting, especially from freelancers. I’ve seen more than one freelance writer on LinkedIn take an aggressively critical stance towards copywriters who use ChatGPT.

In fact, I see a lot of heavy-handed comments about writers who use AI…and correspondingly, very few people admit to using it.

But if one were to pick up their smartphone, a few taps on the touch-enabled OLED screen would take one to Wikipedia in mere microseconds, where one could read that technophobia has been around a bit.

This is not to say we shouldn’t be worried, or that fear is unjustified.

But before we go hurling our keyboards into some subaquatic servers, it might be worth learning to use these new tools (with a healthy degree of both scepticism and cynicism).

Plus, as writers, we might just be the best-placed people to take the reins of AI tools and get excellent results. And that’s an intriguing thought.

A very skibidi toilet

We also answer an excellent question: what’s the best country you’ve visited?

Here’s a clue to Martin’s answer:

…and in a strange twist of fate, I have done a wee in exactly the same facility. Remarkable.

That’s all for now. Keep sending us your questions and we’ll keep attempting to answer them!

H