Early in my career, I thought good copy was about cleverness. The sharper the hook, the better the headline. I could sweat over a single line for hours, convinced that the right combination of verbs and punctuation could make someone care. But the more I wrote, the more I realized that the harder I tried to sell, the more the words pushed people away.

There’s a particular kind of tension you can feel in copy that’s trying too hard. It’s in the exclamation points. The adjectives that pile up like over-eager guests. The desperate cadence of “look at me.”

It’s the sound of insecurity on the page.

The Coffee Shop Lesson

I once worked with a creative director who said, “Good copy should sound like you’re talking to one person across a table. Not a stadium full of strangers.” I think about that a lot.

Great copy isn’t loud. It’s intimate. It’s the quiet confidence of a brand that knows who it is and what it stands for. It’s the difference between someone pitching you and someone telling you a story you actually want to hear.

You can feel the shift immediately. Selling asks something of you. Storytelling gives something back.

When the Work Breathes

I remember rewriting a campaign after weeks of overthinking. The brief was suffocating under all the “key messages” and “call-to-actions.” So, I threw out the bullet points and started from a different place: one real human moment.

The way someone’s shoulders drop when they finally find relief. The relief in a parent’s voice when they say, “It’s working.” The pause before hope returns. That was the heartbeat.

When the campaign went live, the numbers were good, but what stuck with me was how natural it felt. Like I’d finally stopped performing and started communicating.

The Truth Beneath the Copy

People can tell when they’re being sold to and they don’t like it. They can smell the desperation from a mile away. But they also know when they’re being seen.

That’s why storytelling matters. Not because it’s trendy or emotional, but because it’s human. It meets people where they are instead of dragging them somewhere they didn’t ask to go. And in a world crowded with content, that kind of honesty stands out.

The Line I Always Come Back To

When in doubt, I remind myself:

Don’t sell the product. Tell the truth.

Tell the truth about what it does.
Tell the truth about who it helps.
Tell the truth about why it matters.

Because when you do, you don’t have to try so hard. The story takes care of the rest.