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 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. [Update: he’s passed on “to his reward,” as he liked to say. And his reward may well be a place where they wear rubbers! So…maybe?]
The answers to those questions, at this very minute, are not yet and God help me, probably.
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 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 if 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 walk fast, like a New Yorker. (Which I’m not, but I do.)
So I was hoofing it across a vast Burbank parking lot this morning—big box in arms, on a mission to make a Nordstrom return at Nordstrom Rack—and realized I was barreling up on (what I thought was) an older Asian couple.
They were short and round, shuffling along, the woman walking a few paces directly behind the man.
(Hmm, okay, that’s old-world-y, I thought, but not my business.)
When I got alongside them, though, I realized my mistake.
It wasn’t a couple, at all.
I mean, it was definitely an older Asian man, in the lead… but following behind him wasn’t his wife, but instead, probably his adult son. Who had Down’s Syndrome… and was following in his father’s footsteps more like a little duckling following its mama duck than… well, the subservient relationship my brain had gone straight to.
And it went from an “eww” to gentle “aww” moment, like THAT.
My best writing tip came from my boss who is currently being investigated for her enjoyment of other peoples anxiety (aka bullying). One of her anxiety inducing behaviours is to ask “what are you trying to say?”, and when not actively under her gaze this is actually a useful question for writing honestly and with opinions.
I read every one of your emails and I love them. Thank you Laura.
my 17 year old daughter told me to get the f*ck out of her room after I mentioned all the times she could’ve gone to school but didn’t and now it’s the 3rd to last day of her junior year and she has to go, to gym of all things – by the way the Grand Szechuan crispy tofu, pea shoots and wontons with hot chili oil are among my favorite things to eat on the planet.
I have over 14,000 unread emails in my inbox, but at 6:00 this morning when I was laying in bed and couldn’t sleep I remembered that a talking shrimp email had come through the other day when I was busy and couldn’t read it immediately. A few minutes later I had a bright little screen in my face and I was laughing about broccoli and squeaky folding chairs.
Today is a public holiday in Germany and instead of being able to sleep in, I woke up at half past six in the morning to the muffled but rapid footsteps of my neighbors above me, who regularly make sure that I don’t get any more sleep than they do.
I’m new to Laura’s “world” and I am about 3/4 of the way through “Tough Titties”- OMG I am now a fan girl! I relate with so much of her story (not sure that’s a good thing but whatever). Every email I get from her, I read. I NEVER do that!
I am soaking up all of her juicy content, hoping to become a better email-writer. It is challenging but I’m hoping the more I learn here, the better I will get?
One detail from today: My dog didn’t eat any cat turds- I feel like that’s a win.
I saw a kid today selling Lindt chocolate bars outside of Whole Foods Market. Apparently he’s a human magnet because my husband asked the checkout woman for cash back and beelined for this kid outside. My kind and generous with his money husband. He picked out the 85% dark chocolate bar, pretty rich. Healthy. Ugh.
First, it’s intimidating to leave a comment because ya know, judgement of writing skills! (and I’m sure I could put a fleshy detailed example here, but I need to hit the treadmill.)
Second, I LOVED. LOVED the book. Snorted out loud in the car and spilled my tea while listening to it. So I signed up for the emails. I also sent the book link to all my friends who will appreciate it, and smugly to those who might be shocked by the content, but will read or listen anyway, because they don’t want to admit they will be shocked by the content.
Laura, Thanks for being out there in the world to sparkle my brain.
We saw a robin singing on the neighbour’s rooftop. That’s a welcome sign of spring.
Hey Laura, I now google ‘laura belgray details broccoli’ whenever I want to find this article. I am stuck on the details part without making everything a simile. Any thoughts on how to add the detail without having to say something is ‘like’ something else?
I slept like a goldfish on the carpet yet was compelled to read your email first thing
You are not kidding,, this “s..t” really works
Thanks for the inspo
I am looking forward to receiving my copy of “Tough Titties” in the mail next week
I love to linger in bed each morning. It gives me a little bit of quiet time before the world knows I’m awake and starts with the incessant demands. This particular morning, my musician husband is out of town enjoying a few days with friends (it’s actually a gig), in a city I’ve never seen, and I can’t remember why I didn’t tag along.
Instead, I’m hiding out in my semi dark bedroom, reading your article on writing with detail while listening to the incredibly loud snores of my little shi tzu, happy that it’s only 85° instead of 105° on this early Arizona morning. It’s nearly 9am. I guess I’d better get my day started. Thanks for the inspiration!
Barefoot in the morning, grass, mud, and chicken poop collect under my big toenail. I smell Wiggles’ (my dog) urine pooling on the front door walkway because she is too damn lazy to walk 2 feet further out to relieve herself. I cough from the smoke haunting and trailing me like a ghost from my boyfriend’s CBD cigarette. I place a phone call to a fellow 12-step buddy and weep and snot all over my face… a typical weekday morning.
Sitting in this cafe in Studio City sipping on my bitter AF iced matcha green tea thinking about the vibrant young-ish woman I met last weekend married to a dottering old fart who told many a story that had no point. And then “Lyin Eyes” came on the radio. It was a perfect moment of synchronicity. She definitely steps out on the old codger, and he definitely doesn’t care, because even if he gets 5 or 6 hours a day with her, he’s napping the rest of the time anyway.
I stood on the pressed- concrete-shaped-to-look-like-cobblestones sidewalk, sputtery cars and motorcycles rambling by spewing fumes that are illegal in the US, sweat trickling down my armpits in the overhead 95 degree sun, while the young Mayan man at a small cart beside me speared another mango with his sharp screwdriver, began swiping off the peel with a knife, and fillled one more plastic cup with the slices in less than 10 seconds. (With huge thanks for the invitation, so I took the time to capture this micro-moment while I’m visiting Valladolid, Yucatan, MX 🙏🌞🌎)
Nice writing, Sharon! It’s got MY curiosity for more…;) Is it in a book, perhaps?
loved that slice of life.
750words is my fave right now. Thank you for that! I try to write even before coffee and while Hector & Alex (my beautiful cats) are circling me like two sleek, starving sharks. And sometimes I have to pause it, but I get right back to it after breakfast. Today a banana and a piece of cheese, to take my pills with. Later I’m meeting a friend for actual breakfast.
Laura, I miss NY, sometimes I feel like my heart will shrivel up if I don’t live there. I grew up in “transitional” Park Slope in the late 60’s-early 70’s. Now I live in a suburb of a midwestern city Sort of reminds me of Brooklyn.
What’s a Citarella? Anything like Gristede’s? Are there still Gristede’s?
My then live in bf now hubby and I bought some picnic food from a Gristedes on the suburb like Roosevelt Island on a day when the cherry blossoms were in full bloom that spring, Did this sentence have meat lol
I freaking loved this post — first thing I read this morning while walking my 18 month old who’s been up since 3 am. Got outside and the birds of Catskills greeted us with joyful and aggressive chirping like it’s the presentation of Jesus in the temple. Nope, it’s just me and my toddler.
Love this reply; thank you for sharing!
I need to buck up and stay motivated to go to a bachata dance class tonight at 8pm, even though it is mid-day raining outside and nearing-bedtime-looking clouds are throwing my sense of time completely off. I must stay alert enough to be ready to head out the door into the dark 3 hours from now… because I DO want to dance. I will not put on comfier clothes or smoke a bowl… I will drink exactly one beer and play the new Harry’s House album loudly (only the peppy songs) and do a mediation (yes, this may sound like a sleepy thing to do but it honestly keeps me motivated) and I will definitely turn all the lights on in the house. Motivation is fickle but I will win this time!
I sometimes feel like I have all the artistic talent of a cluster of colourblind hedgehogs in a bag (especially when I get asked to remove the ‘details’ at work). Still, I’ll persevere in the hope that I’ll be allowed to add some personality to the company’s tone of voice… one day.
PS: My inner Leprechaun is dancing a jig right and saying ‘to hell with corporate TOV’ (but don’t worry; he’s staying clear of the hedgehogs as my health insurance doesn’t cover being impaled by small spikey critters), so just as well it’s the weekend, LOL!
My day today was shitty. But things lately have been. I love reading what you write. It compells me to open myself up and share the intimate in a funny and interesting way. I decided to read the email you sent yesterday tonight as a warm up for my Friday newsletter writing sesh. Thanks for what you offer in your writing alone. I learn so much.
Details belong in my copy like my hands belong in the reversible checkered pink felt-lined wool mittens whimsically resembling sock monkeys (that I bought from a vendor in Bryant Park – I miss visiting NYC) when this female body of mine decides to protect my vital organs by drawing the blood from my fingers as the temperature dips below 23 degrees. Fahrenheit.
Writing that felt like opening the one gift you get for Christmas that you want to play with right away! Thank you, Laura, and fellow commenters!
I’m head over heels with Laura…to the point, I would rather eat the gum from under the booth bench at McDonald’s than read another single piece of copy from a “so-called” writer that doesn’t just gently lull me to sleep but thrusts me into a coma.
Oooooo… That’s a solid testie right there (testimonial… not testicle).
god that sounds AWFUL! Used gum and at McDonald’s, at that…makes me want to gag up my home made yummy chicken-based vegetable soup with extra garbanzo beans, mushrooms, green pepper, zucchini and yellow squash…messy on my kitchen marble counter.
I LOVE this lesson. People don’t understand how to write in a way that keeps 100% of a reader’s attention.
When I read nebulous copy I start thinking about other things I could/should be doing.
Thank you for spelling it out so clearly.
I read this whole thing.
And I don’t read. I mean, I do. I skim, mostly, really.
When I was a pastry chef in my early 20s, I couldn’t read recipes. Thank god, I was born with the freakishly unique ability to make chewy chocolate chip cookies, without a recipe. Even if the soufflé of the day as Grande Manrier , I’d skim the recipe. Even if the 1st sentence in the instructions were: read this recipe twice. I skimmed twice, instead. I still don’t know how those puffy chef-hat looking desserts came out of the oven smelling like an orange orchard in the south of France.
I lied in the last part. I don’t know what an orange orchard in the south of France smells like. I wrote that to practice writing details. So, how’d I do?
I read your whole post. This is a little bit like a Christmas miracle seeing that I rebel against read a soufflé of the day recipe.
PS – I’m no longer a pastry chef.
Never use the word ‘nice’. Boring people use nice. My third year English teacher – the one who told me that if I didn’t read Middlemarch, I’d never get into uni. Wrong! Thanks Mrs Saunders. She also said she that in that case Jeffrey Archer must be about my limit. I mean, the man went to jail (though not for bad fiction)!! Also wrong. And never start a sentence with the word ‘and’. Mrs Saunders left teaching and became a Church of England vicar.
Funny! I’ve turned greenish from hearing the word, “Nice.” The word reeks of dog poop, overripe, moldy breads/veggies and puts me into a deep sleep. I am not a nice person!…(Sweet, however, as the day is long, brightly sunny and ending with a most beautiful falling star and crescent moon darkened blue sky.) Why does the mainstream continue to court that ridiculous no-meaning word?!?
Before: Laura turned me into a better copywriter.
After: I was less than a nobody – a corporate drone waiting to die or retire at my cubicle under harsh lighting. And then I found some New Yorker with bangs, claiming to be an expert copywriter and undercover coach who entertained me via emails and blog posts. I followed her for years, absorbing all of her copy wisdom. Then one day, I suddenly found myself checking my email inbox. There were hundreds of unopened items, including Paypal payment notifications and correspondence from ideal customers and raving fans, and I wondered, “How did I get here?” and a little voice responded, “Oh yeah, Laura did this to you. Blame her.”
XD
I was glued to this article like gum stuck on the bottom of a park bench!
Love it, thank you!!
Just say I loved it. I never though about it that way. And really makes a difference. Thanks Laura!!
Sitting alone in my dimly lit dining room at the big wooden table, I laugh out loud at the comments on this post as much as I smiled when I was reading it. I shove another piece of alter eco, 70% cacao burnt caramel dark chocolate in my mouth and think, “Maybe if I keep practicing I’ll make people laugh like that.” And then Google Isaac Hanson, ashamed that I didn’t know who Tarzan Kay was talking about.
So details can really pack a punch. I love how you write. You bring out the real meaning of interesting copy. Reading through gives me the feeling of chocolate ice cream sliding down my gut. I’ll embrace detailed story telling as a hobby and daily activity. Hope its not too late to start.
I went down the dark hole of youtube videos and now I’m listening to a 30 minute version of Donna Summer’s “I Feel Love.” So as I read this article, my brain streams hazy memories of tube socks, roller skates, satin gym shorts and 25 cent ice cream cones.
Thank you for these tips. I’m fortunate to have an adjustable height desk. It’s good to be reminded on how to sit and stand properly. Hopefully, this will lessen my aches at the end of a work day.
Two finger-fulls into my Pirates Booty aged white cheddar puffs and I’m already trying to decide if I want another bag when I’m done with this one. This is followed immediately by the thought “wow, I really don’t do the ‘live in the moment’ thing well at all”. Which of course led to an epiphany that my restlessness may indeed be tied to my unwillingness to pay attention to the moment I’m in without sparing more than half my thoughts for what’s next, a whole life daydream where I find my “zen” and figure out the secret to happiness and success and subsequently become an entirely different person who writes as well as you do or maybe even Fran Lebowitz does (I just watched an interview with her and she’s on my mind – I do very much like New Yorkers who write) and think maybe I’ll write a funny book about being entirely incapable of living in the moment. By finger-full seven, I’m simply wondering if I can take a nap and still get all my work done. How’s your day going?
I’m feeling like a turtle in the aquarium. That famous aquarium, famous and unique only because is the only one in the city. The turtle seems like without any effort she swimming and gets carried away by the ripples produced in the water by its own body, and suddenly thóim hits his head. the cycle continues, this beats, the head in the same place and remains for hours, and again hits her head.
After my morning pages and meditation I was about to get out of bed and go downstairs for coffee and my ‘pre-job’ work, putting together a proposal for a client whose work is so aligned with me I’m wondering if I dreamed them. So I really shouldn’t have been checking my emails just yet. But here I am, coffee-less, phone in hand, sitting in a half lotus posture under my many, multicoloured blankets, wondering how many more blog posts I’ll read before that java smell hits my nose!
I miss Grand Szechuan!!! A bunch of us wine geek reps used to gather there — we’d rotate between the three locations but usually went to the one in Hell’s Kitchen (or Chelsea?) over on 10th Ave, maybe 8 or 10 of us at a big roundie in the back of the restaurant. We’d start with dry riesling and light dishes, moving by course to increasingly spicy fare as we popped the corks on sweeter, richer rieslings. Yes, it was always German riesling. By the time we got to the really hot stuff (and when I miss GS, I REALLY miss dan dan noodles) we’d switch to beer. That was in the Bush/Giuliani years. Why did I leave NYC?! She’s the only city that ever truly got me.
My new tabby cat, Lover Girl who was on my screened porch, tried to escape by putting her paws and face through the mailbox slot.
I had every intention of leaving a smarty pants clever reply, but I open my computer and there it is again, that f-ing flashing black cursor that chants “You are not a writer,” in a low Marvin Gaye kind of voice. Suddenly I can’t recall why I am here or what I wanted to get “down” let alone “on”.
This cursor is my nemesis. It morphs from Marvin into a bird in our backyard. In some “Freaky Friday” moment I become our cat “Sally”, fixated on said bird, laser focused until I hear the treat bag being shaked.
Sally runs to get her treats and I become my eight-year-old skinny (oh, those were the days) awkward self in Monday gym class, always last to get picked to be on a dodgeball team. What my classmates don’t know is that I saw Rocky this weekend. I head to the middle of the gym to claim my place amongst the students gathered like a herd of cattle while the farmers check them out.
My usual poke along walk becomes a full on march, my feet are stomping, the captains take note.
The “Eye of the Tiger” pulses through my veins. Each flash of the cursor becomes one of the 72 steps of the stairs leading up to the Philadelphia Museum and I start typing.
I think my husband is dying. He’s laying next to me gasping for air.
His breathing sounds like Darth Vader and when I’m just about to fall back to sleep BAM he startles himself awake with a snore/snort wheezy kinda breath. I think he needs medical attention.
I think *I* need medical attention. I’m just laying here not sleeping thinking about how to lower my 3 boys out the 3rd story window with a bed sheet tied end to end, should the overpriced ski cabin we’re renting go up in flames.
I’m also worried that this talkingshrimp gal will know I’m obsessively reading these blogs and emails, in my dark bedroom next to my snorting husband, and thinking….I’ll never be this cool, not ever!
I love details so much when it comes to stories AND I can’t wait to start telling my peeps about the idiotic things I do everyday. If I’m half as interesting as this blog post, I may finally be able to get some new clients (and sleep).
Keep ‘em coming!
You’re a storyteller, all right! Glad you found your way over here.
After the third little violinist had squeaked out Twinkle-twinkle Little Star, I got to lure the dog out of the room. The dog howls while my daughter plays. Unacceptable for a Zoom Violin Recital. I lured the dog to the bathroom with a bit of pretzel. Closed the door, shoved a blanket in the crack at the bottom and did the same to the bedroom door. I could hear the dog howling during my daughter’s piece, but just barely. And when I let the dog out of the bathroom, there was her pretzel on the floor next to the toilet. It’s not a treat if it’s a bribe. She eats on her own terms.
I had my car shampoo-washed two days ago. The smell, the shiny surfaces, the clean-for-the-first time cup holder, the promise-to-self of no more food, snacks, drinks in the car – so good. Until my kids AND my cat AND my husband took a 2-hour drive to and from the cottage. But that’s not the worst part. The worst part is that I ran out of plastic containers at the cottage but made a whole pot of buckwheat which I decided to bring back home so it doesn’t go to waste. And instead of driving it home in a pot, I put it inside a big bowl and covered it loosely with plastic wrap. How do you think the ride went in a clean car with my cat and two kids and a husband for 2 hours?
Today dragged on and on, with each minute feeling like an eternity. Knowing that at the end of the day, when the clock struck 5pm, I could finally jump up and down shouting, “Freedom!! Vacation here I come.” Sitting in meetings, watching people speak for a few seconds with their mic on and everyone telling him, “you’re muted.” The siren song of the end of the day was calling me.
Wow I never really thought about the power of details.
These replies make me feel like part of an exclusive, aren’t we rebellious, slightly stoned and having fun dancing on the tables in the library kind of Breakfast Club.
I like to knit my doings. Boil a bit of oatmeal while waiting for the lady downstairs. She’s vacuuming in the empty apartment where carpet was just laid. I want to get mayonnaise and chicken I have stored in the fridge down there. I need a sandwich before I go refrigerator shopping. She’s still vacuuming so I’m typing a comment. Time to grab sandwich fixings and yeast so I can start oatmeal bread while building and eating sandwich before partner gets home and yells at me for not being ready to go shopping.
Your emails and posts with all the delicious language and scrumptious words give me a high as I read through and try to inhale every word as if it was some magic potion that could transform my writing as well. Your posts are as good as lusciously melted bars of Cadbury Dairy Milk – even better, because they are calorie free.
Today I launched my website and new business. I crafted a post for social media and used it as an email to my numerous supporters. As I was sending it, I was sweating. Wet t-shirt, hair and ring out your underwear kind of sweating. Mind you it was 5 am, so it was not hot outside.
My nerves got the best of me. Even when promoting my new biz to my friends and family from behind my computer.
Taking this as a sign that it’s going to be big. Really big.
Thanks for all of your help with writing tips. I’ve come a long way as a write in a short time. Even my husband said so.
Thank you for sharing so much of yourself with us! I really appreciate you taking the time to pour your heart and soul into helping educate (and entertain) us!
Reading this post was gold. Reading the comments? Like being Indiana Jones right after getting his hands on the holy grail and right before dropping it in an endless abyss.
It’s Saturday morning and after remembering that I had planned to get up and clean the house first thing (cos dang I have to do it myself these days – life is hard with my cleaner on lockdown), I decided to stay in bed for as long as possible. Warm, toasty and delicious in here, like a grilled cheese sandwich. Mmm. Enjoying your writing, Laura, and the call to create some tasty meatballs for the mind! Thank you 😊
Best tip from my boss at first job in advertising, essentially, get to the fucking point. I agree, specifics are essential or you get stuck in the land of generic. But make it TIGHT.
Each shrimpy tip I get from you is better than the last!
Therefore, I can’t & won’t choose a fav.
Detail from my bore a** day… My dogs mustache is so long now that when she drinks it dunks in her water. She then drips water onto the floor where I slip in these mini puddles. And, I fall for it every darn day!
This morning I’ve made cookies , big chunks ones for my loved one who’s still sleeping and ask me « to not making cookies because is going to be fat ». Before that i saw that I’ve got to email from you! So when I put them in the « four » (don’t know the word in English ) I seat in my kitchen while my neighbors mow his lawn … (how many times you mow your lawn a week ?!) and I take everything you give because it’s gold.
Hilarious and entertaining read – I read every single word✌️
Love this post. Scribbled lots of notes down.
The devil’s in the detail, huh.
Fanks,
Andy
Haha I love it. My followers are about to hear about my oven packing in mid Christmas dinner for the 2nd year in a row. Last year I opened the oven door to dodge a flaming ball of molten lava as it flew 300mph past my right ear. This year you’d think I’d tried to cram real ‘pigs in blankets” in the damn thing. (Ok so I’d squeezed quite a lot in!) I kicked the door shut with my one spare limb whilst multi tasking, only to set off what could only be described as an unstoppable deafening dinner bell. Ironically dinner was not in fact “ready” but wedged into the fan at the back of the oven announcing my inadequacy to the entire neighbourhood. Sprouts anyone??
Your posts remind me of teaching my yoga class. The idea of being your true self and sharing that self with the world, because the world need You! Your unique being!
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.
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?”
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.
The best trip I’ve ever gone is to break up the text. Nothing makes me check out more than a long paragraph online!
Trim the fat, now that’s descriptive!
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!
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.
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.
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?!
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.
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!
My favorite Laura Lesson is the tuna sandwich example in Copy Cure. Verbal perfection.
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
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.
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!
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
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!!
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.
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!
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 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!
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.”
Wow you sold me! I love this advice and even the comment section – which I don’t normally read, but you have some whitty followers! Impressive. I’m an aspiring author that likes to talk a lot. Shoot. 😉
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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!
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.
Never start a sentence with the letter ‘i’. (not a Cap because you might think it’s and L)
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.
Contractions. Not the ones that made me feel like I had to poop during labor* — the ones with apostrophes. That’s the best writing tip I ever got (from you and Marie in the copy cure).
*was that TMI? Details, details 😉
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 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!)
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 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.”