In 9th Grade, I handed in my Pride and Prejudice paper with broccoli stuck to it.
As if this made it better, I circled the green smear with ballpoint pen and scribbled, “Mrs. Carpenter — sorry about the broccoli.”
When I make presentation slides for a speech, I type plain text rather than find a nice graphic template.
Instead of putting out real napkins when we have dinner guests, I set the table with folded paper towels. (They’re brown, 7th Generation unbleached paper towels, so they pass for artisanal. Is what I tell myself.)
And so, I always knew better than to answer any job ad that called for someone “detail oriented.”
Because I’m not.
OR AM I?
It’s true, I’m not neat. I’m too lazy for nice flourishes. If “detail oriented” means you always have a well-divided binder with every paper in the right section and not just all jammed into the front pocket, I bow out.
But when it comes to writing, I am a details fanatic.
And yes, I realize exactly how geeky that sounds.
Like the time at Promax, which is a convention for people in TV promos, when the keynote speaker chuckled and said, “Those of you who know me know what an absolute nut I am for continuous flow.” Continuous flow is when they squeeze the show credits into the bottom of your TV screen and go right into the next show without a commercial break. It’s a weird thing to get fetish-y about.
And so are concrete, original details. Except that…
They’re the best tool any writing teacher ever taught me.
I love them like teenagers love selfies.
Like old people love free packets of oyster crackers.
Like my downstairs neighbor loves to drag her squeaky fucking folding chair along the floor at 7:15 am.
See that? Details. I’d never say I’m on it like white on rice. I’d say I’m on it like dog pee on fresh New York snow.
Original details turn clichéd into compelling.
They give your sentences shape, so we want to read them.
They allow us to picture your idea like it’s a movie. (Or better yet, a TV show. Because TV is now better than movies.)
Vague descriptions are squishy and soupy. If our mind had fingers, vague would slip right through.
Details are hard, solid, chunky. They’re mental finger food. Our brain stops and picks them up, like meatballs on a toothpick.
Before details:
I was lost and unhappy — physically, mentally, and spiritually burned out from my job.
After details:
Every day on the subway to work, I cried behind my Kindle. I needed a nap by the time I’d logged into my office computer. My password, which required a combo of uppercase, lowercase, numbers and characters, was Want2f*ckingQuit.
Right? See the difference?
Longer, but better and concrete and picture-able and copycat-proof.
Copycats hate details. It’s one thing to steal a vague idea. But personal details like crying behind a Kindle? You’ve got to be shameless to steal those.
Your audience, though? They love details.
They love:
- Soggy toilet paper on the floor.
- Your airplane seat-mate’s nose wheeze.
- The sour-milk smell of Suzy Nussbaum’s Welcome Back Kotter lunchbox in 2nd grade.
Happy details are good too. The clang of the Grand Szechuan delivery guy chaining his bike below your window, just before the doorman buzzes you up to say “food’s here.” (That’s the happiest detail I can think of. Spring flowers bore me.)
If you want to be memorable, dish the specifics.
The more solid, sensory, concrete and particular, the better.
The stuff we can picture. That’s what that sticks with us. (Like broccoli on homework.)
People who barely know me ask if I’ve had my Citarella watermelon chunks yet today because they read this.
They ask me if my dad is wearing his rubbers.
The answers to those questions, at this very minute, are not yet and God help me, yes.
Details make your writing stand out from the vast, choppy ocean of blah.
(Where most writing drowns, decomposes, and gets nibbled by tiny fish.)
They connect with your audience.
They make you and your stories memorable, which makes you a star.
Best of all, they sell.
I don’t write enough to tell you to be consistent.
Or concisely enough to tell you to keep it brief.
But this advice I feel qualified to give:
Give us the specifics.
You may not be “detail-oriented,” but you can still be a details nut on the page.
Even there’s broccoli stuck to it.
Now you.
What’s the best writing tip you ever got?
Or, give me a detail from your day today. Just one little thing you saw.
TELL ME IN THE COMMENTS.
I just want to read your blog all day. Or “even though I have to pee like crazy I stay for 3 more minutes on my Pilates ball chair, pelvic tilting with delight as I read every last word of Laura Belgray’s latest post.”
I’m longing to be outside instead of stuck in the suffocating office today, so I sit and look defeatedly out the window at the festival in the nearby park and listen to the sequin cladded marching band playing Purple Rain.
I love your blog posts as much as I loved Aqua Net in the 80’s.
And feel as sad as my then-eight-year-old daughter did in the middle of the High School Musical frenzy that Zac Efron was “really a grown-up” to be missing out on your writing workshop in Italy. (And trust me, that’s pretty fucking sad!)
My dating profile is now complete with a juice box of adventures I want to experience with my one and only. Plus doing the copy cure and reading this blog post, tightened my taste three-fold paper napkin!!!
I love this blog post almost as much as I loved Isaac Hanson at 16 when he sang “Mmmbop”.
(Weird, right? He was so obviously the least handsome Hanson.)
Handsome is irrelevant when it comes to “Mmmbop.” That was so good it had this almost-40 year old up and out of the desk chair to swivel my hips and boogie my arms in the office. Not necessarily a visual anyone wants to imagine!
Mmmbop makes me smile and dance even more these days as a 42 year old! My 14 year old daughter and I love to roll down I-75, blaring either the acoustic version off You Tube or the Weird Al medley version with a bunch of 90s tunes all mashed up together.
*sigh* I have a teen who rocks out to Weird Al parodies and mashups, singing at the top of her lungs with me. All is well with the world.
This makes me feel as happy as Rebecca churning butter in an Amish Paradise.
Never start a sentence with the letter ‘i’. (not a Cap because you might think it’s and L)
Best tip? Quit writing like a freaking robot.
Detail today? I got my hair colored and it looks as delicious as the hazelnut Turkish Delight my stylist gave me to snack on while he wrapped my head in foils.
Incredibly grateful to be learning from you, Laura, because my writing is so bland it tastes like a 2-1/2 minute bowl of microwaved Cream of Wheat. Thanks for teaching me how to add the spice of cinnamon, sweetness of brown sugar, and a handful of nuts!
Damn, you got me with the details! The thing I hate most about my job is when they make me change my password! It must be min 14 characters w/ uppercase, lowercase, numbers, characters and it can’t be the same as one of my previous 20 passwords, ugh!
Ok, rant over. Thinking about what happened to me today, literally just gave me an idea for an entire blog post related to something I learned today.
I’m renovating my kitchen and bought a “Universal” gas installation kit for my new oven. I repeat “Universal”. Before my contractor sent me to get it, I asked him if there were different sizes I might need to chose from. He said no. I was doubtful, so I got on Home Depot’s website and sure enough, they had a “Universal gas installation kit” that said right in the description that it fits all new ovens and many older models.
Even as I bought it though, I knew it wouldn’t fit (hello Murphy’s law, yes I see you coming), and wouldn’t you know it, none of the different sized options the kit came with are the right size.
Lesson learned: No matter how much research you do, how many questions you ask, or how much you prepare for something can prevent all problems. Still do all the research, prepare as much as you can, do the best work you can do, but don’t sweat what you can’t control. Just deal with it and go back to fucking Home Depot for the 67th time in 2 months.
Cider with Rosie, first year at senior school. My English teacher, Mrs Hook, pausing our reading aloud to discuss the details of what we’ve just read. Rosie, she says, keeps her enormous brass key around her neck tucked into her cleavage. Mrs Hook looks down at her own chest, which is as flat as mine (at this point I feel comforted) and asks us to ponder what this little detail in the text tells us about the voluptuousness of our hero Rosie.
‘I,’ she adds, ‘couldn’t even hide a Yale key around my neck,’ and we all giggle, and I store that moment away so that twenty-seven years later sitting in my pyjamas writing a blog comment instead of replying to emails, I can quietly thank Mrs Hook, because I’ve always remembered it.
Love this tip, thank you! The “after” example feels so much more alive with all the details – they’re like sneaky little messengers, opening our hearts’ hidden doors with their sneaky little keys.
Awesome post Laura!
As I was worrying about opt-ins while walking my dogs today, our crazy, hairy, mixed-breed Vega, proceeded to tangle her leash around a tree, threw herself on a patch of very tall grass and started rolling around making a crop circle worthy of any English conspiracy theorist…. Yup… my thoughts on opt-ins exactly.
This comment is obnoxious like a drive thru when you order mashed potatoes but they don’t give you a fork to eat it with kind of obnoxious, but what one thing I noticed is that this sentence:
Even there’s broccoli stuck to it.
Desperately needs an “if” or “When” after “Even” because it’s driving me crazy in a “did you really just dog ear the page on my brand new book?” Kind of crazy.
To kind of calm down the crazy: thank you. I love these ideas.
LAURA. I have literally sent this blog post to 5 different clients this week when they asked me to take out the specifics because “What if it doesn’t resonate with everyone.”
Every single one has responded with, “Okay, okay! I’m convinced! You can leave in the reference about croissant crumbs in the couch cushions. Jeeze.”
So basically, you’re the only way I get shit done. I heart you big time.
This makes me so happy! People are funny about trying to appeal to EVERYONE.
Thrilled that I can help you make your case.
Seriously, no one’s going to say, “Croissant crumbs? I prefer flatbread crackers, this business isn’t for me.”
Laura I can’t get enough of your wit, shameless honesty & ability to make EVERYTHING make sense! I so appreciate this great reminder… writing should all feel like juicy gossip, dripping with intrigue and all of the saucy details included!
My best writing tip… you are the only one with your voice, USE it!
I tip my hat in your general direction with appreciation!
So I’m a serial content skimmer…I’m to the point of being on auto-pilot it’s so automatic that I run my eyes down the page as quick as I can trying to find anything that stands out on a website or in an email that may be of interest. I have 5 kids…so I” incredibly short on time. As in I can’t even go pee without a knock on the door “Mom?” And then insert the Spanish Inquisition. But you stop me in my tracks every time!!! It’s like finding an amazing book that sucks you in and makes you get reading because you just HAVE TO KNOW what happens!
Gah! Sorry *I’m not I” and *keep not get. Typing too fast on my phone.
Laura, this is the first time I post here and actually the first time I post on anyone’s blogs (except on a handyman blog asking how to stop my toilet from incessant flushing). You’re just the BEST! I get so many inspirations from you. Every copywriter should put a sticker of your name over the screen of their mac, seriously! Thank you so much for writing!
bwaahhahhahah …..like dog pee on fresh NYC snow….crakin’ me up. I live in a condo Downtown Denver, CO with my Boston Terrier Cartman (oh yeah and my boyfriend Mike, him too) and I swear it is like Cartman is excited to run out there and pee on that beautiful canvas. Now that I think of it, Mike is proooobably jealous:) Must be a guy thing. Thanks for the laugh and the reminder to kickass.
OMG I need you in my life and copy as I need my cold coke zero in the morning as soon as I sit at my boring messy desk!!
So Tuesday was my last day of work–at that place anyway. People keep asking me where I am going and the answer is; I DON’T KNOW!!!
People who know me know I’m horrible at map reading, I actually directed my ex-husband to drive over the Golden Gate Bridge six times trying to find Oakland. This was before GPS, he finally took my map privileges away and eventually divorced me. I think I am on the right path this time.
I am enrolled in B-School. Being unemployed, I’ve maxed out my learning budget and beyond. If I had it to do again, I would have taken your course first. Improving my writing skills would have been a really great stepping stone to my future AND it would have given me increased earning power sustaining me through the other processes that I am doing (I am fully engaged in deciding what I will be when I grow up–I am over 60, it’s time).
Thank you for your messages, I appreciate so much learning this way until I can do the full deal. Looking forward to that!
Deb
This is practice….
A (not so proud) detail from my day: I lost my mind and blasted my horn as two cars tried to squeeze in front of me on a construction-riddled surface street in San Diego. I cursed out loud as I questioned my last-minute decision to take this exit for a quick lunch!!
There you go, details!
Ms. Belgray, I love reading your e-mails. It is rare to have something sitting in my inbox that excites me to open . I’m so glad I stumbled on you and subscribed!
I love reading your writing so much that I opened your email straight away and read through the whole post while ignoring my shame watching of the latest episode of Riverdale in the background (which I don’t even look up from when my boyfriend asks me if I’d like more ice cream).
So, that’s a crazy amount of love.
Thump! Thump!! Thump!!!
That’s me banging my head on my fancy-shmancy height-adjustable desk as I repeat the mantra, “Details.”
Thanks for the reminder, Laura. I needed it.
PS. Can you send me a personal reminder every Thursday when I write my weekly blog post? Would be really helpful. xx
My favorite Laura Lesson is the tuna sandwich example in Copy Cure. Verbal perfection.
The writing tip that is less tip and more ‘if you love coffee you’ll love this’ was getting hooked on Starbucks mocha’s. It started in Greenwich (UK version) whilst doing a Master’s degree in half-arsed fashion. I mean, they only make you go to class 12 hours a week so what else do you do with your time? I drank much chocolate and much coffee and did much googling and it turns out the quote by Honore de Balzac is true:
“This coffee falls into your stomach, and straightway there is a general commotion. Ideas begin to move like the battalions of the Grand Army on the battlefield, and the battle takes place. Things remembered arrive at full gallop, ensign to the wind. The light cavalry of comparisons deliver a magnificent deploying charge, the artillery of logic hurry up with their train and ammunition, the shafts of wit start up like sharpshooters. Similes arise, the paper is covered with ink; for the struggle commences and is concluded with torrents of black water, just as a battle with powder.”
My MA dissertation courtesy of coffee and chocolate and endless repeats of Hitch and the Princess Diaries in the background because I convinced myself I wouldn’t notice I was doing work if my brain could hear a movie I’d seen before. Not my best productivity hack (except in the deadline days). And newly justified cause science says chocolate + coffee equals focus (win!)
As for the details – I love the reminders from you and Bob Mortimer (for reals – google Bob Mortimer WILTY dentistry – that is a man who gets details! (and you will be a person of lost hours)) Anywho – my mantra for the week – details! Danke!
Heather – I just searched Bob Mortimer Would I Lie to You and got lost in it for an hour.
I can’t stop laughing. And yes, it’s all in the details.
Thank you Laura and Heather!
This may be one of my most favorite articles from you because I wholeheartedly agree! My heart SWOONS for detailed writing of any kind. It adds personality and sticks (like broccoli).
I almost knocked over the pile of writing workshop excersies I manically printed out (because words are everything) screaming YAAAAS to this post!
But maybe I should stop… I don’t think my grandparents’ hearts can take much more of my sporadic joy.
OH MY GOSH! Thank you for making me laugh out loud, Laura! Wonder which part? “My password, which required a combo of uppercase, lowercase, numbers and characters, was Want2f*ckingQuit.” Ironically, I read that part while sitting at my work computer that I enter not one, but TWO difficult passwords into everyday. Speaking of things that die and TV – I’m still a little creeped out how a perfect American Idol contestant was voted off last night. She sang an original cover “RIP”. ANYway – your details make me think of details, but I guess that was the point?!
Best tip… Hum.
Never stop writing or you’ll end up like a George error Martin.
No. Jokin’. But it could have. It’s a joke I heard in the last episode of Silicon valley in my bath an hour ago. (Yes, I take my computer in the bathroom. I’m a Khaleesy, I don’t burn)
By the way, George R. R Martin could have written the email title that brought me here!
I loved that post. For all the details, but most of all dog pee.
This blog post made me mindlessly sit down and stand like a store maniquen naked and not moving until I get to the last period.
Laura, I don’t have anything interesting to say. Other than, “Thank you for bringing this article out.” I always struggle with guilt for not being concise!
Trim the fat, now that’s descriptive!
The best trip I’ve ever gone is to break up the text. Nothing makes me check out more than a long paragraph online!
A detail from my day:
I hand-sew quilts, using the English Paper Piecing method. I baste fabric around cardstock hexagons, then sew the hexagons together and pull out the cardstock. I’ve got five or six different projects going on right now. And sometimes things get jumbled up.
So today, I sewed hexagons out of pink grapefruits, blue and green daisies, red with gold sponge-painted on top, and black and gray rhombuses.
It’s probably not the write process to follow, but it makes me feel like I’m making progress on multiple endeavors.
Laura.
Bravo!
I’m a songwriter, and took a memorable class in lyric writing from a guy called Ralph Murphy.
His advice (echoing yours) is to write to women, who love details.
His story- if a woman told her girlfriends she broke up, they’d want all the details. “What did he do? What did you say? Where’d it happen?”
The guy goes home from the same breakup and tells his roommate. “Sucks man, want a beer?”
I went for a hike today with my 10-month-old son and partner. We hiked to the top of Eagle Rock, a rock that looks nothing like an eagle but has the character of one. It is sandy and looks like a box shaped crater. I walked barefoot on it as I held my son and we watched the sun paint the sky in lavender, rose pink and ocean blue hues. We discovered a secret cave in the rock’s massive body where the words “Be Present” were painted in black across the wall. In the distance were lush forest green mountains and the ocean. For a moment we were all silent as if an angel flew by giving us this gift. The present.