The title of this piece is "The Ad Ventures of a Copy writer," and the gist of it is in the title's pun. As part of my business, Full Court Press, I write copy for ads, brochures, flyers, and so on. "Copy" is an apt term. It isn't usually original, and it can be replicated without editing.
At first I thought it wouldn't be hard to do. As an English teacher I had often done classes on how to recognize the subtle and blatant persuasions of copy writing, and I thought knowing the principles would make it easy to write the copy: just plug in the jargon and the copy would appear, like a print in developer.
Not so. One of my first assignments was to write brochure copy for a local realtor. He gave me a spec sheet about the property he wanted to sell and I had to write up an appealing description of 200 to 300 words. I thought all I had to do was gum together some real estate buzzwords and I'd be done. But the property wouldn't allow me. It was a distinct entity with its own theme. I had to find the property's "feel" that would convey its tangible value. In short, I had to really write and not just simply transcribe real estate lingo into complete sentences. I worked on that single page of prose for three hours before I got a take I liked.
I don't know why this should have surprised me. For years I'd told my students that all writing was creative and that every writing task required imagination. But in my arrogance I assumed that writing copy was a step below "real writing," when in fact it required all the approaches associated with so-called "legitimate" writing: developing a thesis, supporting it with facts, and packaging it in a way that was persuasive and distinct.
I would go so far as to say that what I have to do as a copywriter, and what every copywriter who pens a memorable phrase does, is create poetry. In writing poetry the poet aims to give the reader a "re-vision" of the ordinary through innovative word play and form, seeking to make the eyes of the reader see something new. This is exactly what good copywriting does.
Good copy has the same powers of arrest that a good poem has. It won't be remembered in the same way as "April is the cruelest month," but just because copy is words put to capitalist use doesn't dilute the inventiveness, wit, and surprise that good copywriting can display. And giving the poetry of copywriting its due offers you a small opportunity for a bit of subversion: critiquing the capitalist art gives you a chance to control it, and your enjoyment means a small defeat for Madison Avenue's effort to invade your subconscious. Not a bad exchange at all for a moment's pleasure.
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