6 Tips for Marketing Writing That Doesn’t Suck

We’ve all seen it. That Frankenstein monster of corporate “content” stitched together from jargon, buzzwords, and the tears of unpaid interns. It lumbers across the internet, moaning things like “synergize your ROI streams” and “facilitating growth opportunities.”

And … we close the tab.

Don’t be that writer. Nobody wants to read a white paper that feels like homework. If your marketing copy doesn’t make people yawn, scroll, or punch their monitor, you’re already ahead of the pack. Here’s how to keep your words alive, awake, effective, and maybe even fun.

1. Write Like You’re Talking to a Human (Preferably One You Like)

Pretend you’re explaining your thing to a buddy over beers. Not a boardroom. Not a hostage negotiation. A buddy. If it feels like you’re writing a eulogy for software, stop. Start over.

Shortcut: Literally write, “Hey [friend’s name], did you know…” and then just let it rip. You can delete the “Hey Steve” later, but that tone? That’s the good stuff.  

2. If You Wouldn’t Say It In a Conversation, Torch It

Do you actually say words like “utilize” in real life? No, you say “use.” The second you start sprinkling in “facilitate,” “robust,” or “synergy,” you sound like a malfunctioning TED Talk robot.

Bad: “We facilitate growth through innovative strategies.”

Good: “We help you grow with smart strategies.”

One sounds human. The other sounds like a ransom note.

3. Read It Out Loud (And Cringe Accordingly)

Your brain lies to you. It tells you that your 34-word sentence is smooth jazz when really it’s a Yoko Ono interpretive interlude. Read it out loud. If you trip over it, your reader will too. Rewrite until it feels like something you’d actually say.

Before: “Our team leverages cross-platform synergy to maximize ROI.”

After: “We make sure your brand shows up wherever your customers are, so you get the most bang for your buck.”

See? Less “leverage.” More life.

4. Stop Marathoning Your Sentences

A sentence should not feel like a triathlon. If you’re gasping for air halfway through, your reader’s already gone. Break it up. Short. Punchy. Done.

Before: “Our new app offers a range of features designed to streamline workflows, enhance productivity, and ensure optimal user satisfaction by delivering seamless integration across multiple platforms.”

After: “Our new app helps you work smarter. It streamlines workflows. It boosts productivity. It plays nice with your other tools.”

See how much easier that is to swallow?

5. Bring Yourself to the Party

People don’t want to talk to a brand. They want to talk to you. Opinions, stories, jokes … whatever makes you sound less like a voicemail from Comcast, use it.

Boring: “Our customer service team is always available to help you.”

Better: “Got a question at 2 a.m.? We’ve got your back. Our support team basically runs on caffeine and panic.”

Your personality is the difference between “eh” and “hell yes.”

6. Kill Corporate Buzzwords

Buzzwords are marketing’s cigarette butts. They’re everywhere. They stink. And they make you look lazy.

Trash: “Let’s circle back on that low-hanging fruit and leverage cutting-edge solutions.”

Treasure: “Let’s talk later. We use the latest tools to get the job done.”

Simple. Clear. And you won’t make your readers throw up in their mouths.

 

Good marketing writing isn’t about sounding smart. It’s about being clear, being human, and, dare I say, not sucking. Write like a person, cut the crap, and remember: nobody’s ever said, “Wow, I loved that brand’s synergy.”

Now get out there and make words people actually want to read.

Curbing Creativity

 

Most people don’t have a creativity problem. They have an approval problem.

You can watch it happen in real time. Someone starts to say an idea out loud, then suddenly edits themselves mid-sentence like they’ve got a tiny corporate lawyer living behind their eyeballs. “Well, maybe that’s stupid.” “This probably wouldn’t work.” “Forget it.”

The idea barely made it out of the driveway before getting pulled over for inspection.

Which makes sense. Modern culture trains people to become aggressively reasonable. Schools reward the right answer. Offices reward the safe answer. Social media rewards the fast answer delivered with the confidence.

Meanwhile, actual creativity is messy as hell.

Good ideas often arrive looking slightly stupid. They wander in incomplete ... making weird connections, asking inconvenient questions. And people kill them early because nobody wants to sound foolish in a culture obsessed with optimization.

So we edit too soon -- filtering while generating and judging while exploring. Because everything now has to sound optimized, validated, scalable, monetizable, and preferably summarized into a carousel suitable for posting on LinkedIn.

The irony is that originality rarely comes from people who are always certain. It comes from people willing to sit in ambiguity a little longer. People who can follow a strange thought without demanding a business case after thirty seconds. 

This looks suspiciously unproductive to people addicted to metrics, but the smartest people I know are rarely the quickest to declare certainty. They poke at ideas instead of immediately trying to win with them. And I believe that this is more of an advantage now than ever before. Because the world is filling up with polished sameness. Perfectly optimized content that is clean, efficient, frictionless, and dead on arrival.

The people who still matter creatively will be the ones willing to look a little foolish before they look correct. The ones who can resist editing every thought into compliance before it has a chance to breathe. The ones who may initially appear inefficient, but, when the dust has cleared, will be celebrated for their effectiveness.

Fortunately, Dav was not a very good listener.

Dav Pilkey’s “Captain Underpants” books have been translated into more than 37 languages with more than 90 million books sold worldwide.

Independence Day

 

July 4th: the day Americans collectively decide that freedom is best celebrated through grilled meat, minor explosions, and aggressively themed paper plates.

This time of year, every commercial starts the same way: soaring eagle, acoustic guitar, waving flag. Then a pickup truck drives through a wheat field in slow motion while a gravelly voice whispers: “This Independence Day, celebrate the American spirit.” Apparently, patriotism now comes with zero-percent financing and a free cooler.

Then there're the furniture and mattress sales. “LIBERTY SAVINGS EVENT!” You've gotta admit that nothing honors the founding fathers quite like financing a recliner until 2032.

And the food ads. Every burger on a backyard grill gets filmed like a cinematic masterpiece. Dramatic close-ups of ketchup dripping in slow motion like it’s a historical reenactment turn burger commercials into a patriotic documentary. And hot dogs. Why are hot dogs the official food of freedom? Why? Can we please find something that says “land of opportunity” better than mystery meat tubes consumed outdoors while balancing a paper plate on your knee.

And why are fireworks always sold in roadside tents that look one gust of wind away from becoming national news? Nothing inspires confidence quite like buying explosives from a folding table next to a handwritten sign that says: “MEGA COBRA DEATH ROCKETS.”

Also, can we discuss patriotic clothing? Every store expects me to buy star-spangled pants and shirts that say things like “RED WHITE & BREWS” or “PARTY LIKE IT’S 1776,” which is historically concerning because if we actually partied like it was 1776 we’d all die of dysentery before dessert.

Still, there’s something wonderfully fun about it all. Maybe it’s the collective agreement that for one evening we’ll all stand outside together, swatting bugs and looking upward while the sky explodes in patriotic glitter. Or maybe it’s just the cold beer. Hard to say.

Happy 4th of July, my fellow overheated freedom celebrants.

Now excuse me while I go spend 150 dollars on sparklers and bottle rockets … and assure my wife that no parts of the house will catch on fire this year.