I have a bone to pick with every wannabe copywriter out there that lacks nuance and an actual understanding of what copy is supposed to do.
Copywriting does not mean writing endless features. Or benefits. Or even attaching benefits to features, as the best of this bunch tend to do.
The goal of copywriting, despite what your favorite guru taught you or what you read in your favorite brand’s emails, is not listing features. Or benefits. Or even attaching benefits to features, as the best of this bunch tend to do.
The real goal of copywriting?
Convincing the reader to whip out their credit card and buy whatever it is you’re sellin.
There are many ways to skin this cat, including features and benefits (obv).
But there are other ways.
More persuasive ways.
More profitable ways.
And frankly, more fun ways.
Here’s why I’m thinking about features and benefits on the Monday before Christmas:
I’ve been clashing a bit with clients who believe this silly idea that copywriting = features and benefits.
Mayhap this is my fault. Or mayhap it’s my job to get them to see the light more clearly. That’s left to be seen.
But here’s what I know:
One of my clients recently went “behind my back” (so to speak) to promote a new offer.
He wrote and sent two emails this morning promoting said offer. (Though to be fair… the second email just fixed a typo in the first - a strategy that can sometimes unlock more sales, when done right, and other times make you look like a baboon who learnt to type.)
Anyway…
The emails he wrote made my poor little eyes bleed.
There wasn’t anything “wrong” with the emails per se (besides the typo).
It was all technically decent, accurate, and informative.
But it was basically just a list of features bullets with some benefit copy sprinkled in.
It wasn’t written in an entertaining, curiosity-provoking, or emotional way.
In fact, it was so robotic, so feature and benefit-heavy, and so formulaic…
…that I fully believe you could’ve prompted ChatGPT to write a more persuasive, entertaining, and yes, human email.
These two emails have garnered a whopping conversion rate of 0.09%.
Though, to be fair again, it’s only been a day.
But as long as we’re being fair, then I can also say that this email and this offer only went to the segment of our audience most likely to buy it: Customers of our flagship product.
But it was so painfully boring that only a few customers who already know, like, and trust my client took him up on this offer.
So please for the love for all that is holy, stop confusing features and benefits with persuasive copy.
Yes, they can be a persuasive element.
But on their own?
On their own, with no greater context or emotional connection, they’re borderline anti-persuasive.
More:
I also blame customers.
This client in particular is obsessed with interviewing customers, figuring out what they want, and then trying to offer it to them. I give him credit for that. On the surface, it seems like the smart thing to do. Especially when your favorite guru says this is the way.
But here’s the thing:
Asking the deer how to be hunted ain’t nearly as informative or effective as asking the hunter.
In fact, the deer will tell you one thing but mean something completely different. Most people walk around blind to what makes them “tick.” And this lack of understanding actually mean they give you complete back-asswards advice.
The hunter doesn't do that.
Because the hunter knows what makes the deer “tick” more than they do.
So it is with a professional copywriter.
Another story:
I have another client who, despite my best efforts, is dedicated to doing something similar. Albeit, he’s not writing emails behind my back. But he’s obsessed with talking with customers and using the same features and benefits strategy as another client.
Each week I have to rewrite an email promoting a live show that’s filled with “technically decent, but dreadfully misses-the-point-of” copy. It’s not offensive (except to a pro). And again, there’s nothing “wrong” with it besides not understanding the fundamental point of copy and content:
Persuasion.
These emails I have to rewrite have persuasive elements in them, sure. But they lack any real persuasion.
They lack substance.
Humanity.
Spiritual voodoo force. Whatever you wanna call it.
And since they lack these key ingredients, I have to spin my wheels to transform it from a piece of puke into something that’s not terrible.
The result?
I waste my time, my clients waste their time, and the reader wastes their time. And everyone can feel this time suck too. You can feel it between the lines. The lack of humanity. The obsession with feature and benefit soup. The dilettantism seeps through every crack in the crevice of each letter.
Worst of all?
You can sense the laziness of it.
If copy could be written by machines the way processed foods are created, it would be copy like this.
Moral of the story?
Copywriting tactics only get you so far.
But if you only ever use the same tactics, again and again, without mixing things up, using different tactics, or thinking about your content strategy in a more holistic way?
Then, you’ll go the way of the NBA—which is the only modern sports game not enjoying seismic growth.
But you can stop this before it becomes a more threatening problem.
How?
By hitting reply and jumping on a call with me.
John
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