Buckle Up

 

AI isn’t killing copywriting … but it is dismantling the old rules at speed.

We’re in the uncomfortable middle of a major shift. The tools are powerful, accessible, and moving faster than most people can think through their implications. As a result, confusion is everywhere. Copywriters are experimenting, overusing, underusing, or misunderstanding AI. Clients are doing the same … sometimes replacing judgment with automation, sometimes expecting “AI magic” without strategy.

Mistakes are inevitable. Some copy will get cheaper. A lot of it will get worse. And a smaller slice will get noticeably better … not because AI wrote it, but because someone knew what to ask, what to edit, and what to ignore.

This is how change always looks from the inside: messy, uneven, and uncomfortable. Entire categories of work will be devalued. New ones will emerge slowly and without clear labels. People who equate copywriting with typing words will struggle. People who understand positioning, persuasion, and context will still be needed. Maybe more than ever.

The future of copywriting isn’t clear yet. Anyone claiming certainty is selling something. But one thing is clear: the road there will be tough for many.

An Aging Warhorse Takes Stock

Seventy years old. Let that rattle around a minute. 

For a lot of businesses, that’s long past the expiration date they stamp on your forehead. Thanks for your service, now shuffle off to the golf course, maybe buy a recliner, fade politely into irrelevance.

Not me. Not yet.

I’m still here, still raising hell, still stringing words together like they owe me rent. Still laughing at the wrong jokes while also knowing when to button it up in a client meeting. Still learning, still cussing, still showing up.

And here’s the kicker: I like it better now. The pressure’s gone. I don’t have to pretend to be twenty-five with a full head of hair and a bulletproof plan. I get to be seventy, scars and all, and keep creating without asking permission. That’s freedom.

So if you think there’s an expiration date on relevance, think again. Age doesn’t close the door ... it blows it wide open.

Long live the ones who stay engaged. Long live the ones who keep swinging long after the crowd thinks they should’ve sat down.

I’m seventy. Get the fuck out of my way.

Stop Throwing the Map at Them

 

There’s a certain kind of pitch that feels like being chased through the woods by a very aggressive slide deck.

     Slide one: You are lost.
     Slide two: Very lost.
     Slide three: Shockingly, almost impressively lost.
     Slide four: Good news. We sell compasses.

It’s dramatic. It’s urgent. It can be effective ... and also exhausting.

Because the truth is almost always this: your prospect knows what to do. It just isn’t translating into steps.

Think of strategy like a beautifully drawn trail map. It has contour lines. Landmarks.

Execution, on the other hand, is the muddy incline with the loose rocks and the bug that won’t leave your ear alone.

Most pitches confuse the two. They point at the map and say, “See? You’re failing to follow it.” As if the hikers haven’t noticed.

Consider instead saying something like:

“You already know where you’re going. The issue isn’t intelligence. It’s traction. Let’s talk about where your boots are slipping.”

That changes everything.

When you soften the pitch, you stop positioning yourself as the all-knowing cartographer and start acting like a good trail partner. The kind who says, “Yeah, that hill is brutal. Let’s zigzag it instead of charging straight up.”

This allows you to reframe the pitch: “You already know what to do. The problem isn’t insight. It’s translation. Let’s build the bridge between knowing and doing.”

Now you’re not the hero with the helicopter. You’re the steady hiking partner. The one who says, “Let’s take this in switchbacks. Ten clear steps. We’ll adjust as we go.” Because most leaders don’t need another map, they need someone to help them walk it.

Your presentation should acknowledge autonomy, assume competence, and treat the client like a capable adult who hit a patch of mud, not a lost child in the forest. No humiliation. No theatrics. No 87-slide autopsy.

Because underneath the theatrics of most consulting decks is a quieter truth: people don’t need more insight. They need support in acting on the insight they already have.

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Executive Summary: Replace your 87-slide pitch deck with a simpler offer: "You already know what to do. Here's why that isn't translating into results yet, and here's how we actually get it done together."

Bad Markets Don’t Kill You … Standing Still Does

 

Everyone loves to swagger when the market’s booming.

Chest out. Pipeline fat. Every guru suddenly a genius, every agency “crushing.”

But then the wind shifts. The headlines are heavy with gloom and doom. Budgets sneeze and the whole world catches fear. And even brave brands become timid little field mice whispering the same sentence: “We’re just going to wait this one out.”

But markets don’t actually “go bad.” They don’t rot like fruit, they morph like weather.

Clients don’t stop needing help. They start needing different help. Problems don’t vanish, they upgrade into new, weirder, scarier shapes.

Slow markets are just crowded markets where everyone stopped talking at once. Which means there’s suddenly more oxygen for the ones still breathing.

Separating the builders from the bunker-dwellers: When the environment changes, builders don’t fold. They mutate. Listening harder. Studying what’s breaking.

You gotta look for the “oh shit” moments inside your clients’ heads and run toward them while everyone else is guarding their lunch money.

You think it's optimism, but it's evolution.

Your offer isn’t carved in stone , it’s clay … re-shape it to serve the moment.

A “bad market” is not a crisis. It’s a diagnostic tool. It reveals who was riding the wave … and who can surf when the ocean’s angry. It shakes out the hobbyists. It rewards the ones who bother to stay in the water when the weather shifts.

You don’t grow in spite of slow markets. You grow because of them. Because when the world panics, attention gets cheap. When your competitors curl up, loyalty goes on sale.

When buyers get scared, they cling to the ones who actually show up with a plan.

The market isn’t bad. Your old strategy is. Thank God, because stale strategies deserve to die. Let the timid conserve their courage. Let the cautious take long naps. Let the “we’ll pick things back up later” crowd rehearse their comeback speeches … while you’re rewriting offers, solving the new problems, reallocating budgets, and planting seeds where the soil is suddenly wide open. Because slow markets aren’t a winter. They’re spring dressed as winter … waiting to see who still believes in growth.

And if you do the work now? You won’t just survive the storm. You’ll own the forecast when the sun comes back.

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Here are some responses to “Bad Market” concerns from your clients (courtesy of Jamie Brindle):

From the Client: We’re pausing all marketing until things pick up.  

Response: That’s when growth stalls for good. While others go quiet, let's build something that steals the attention they just gave up.

 

From the Client: Budgets are frozen right now.

Response: Understood. What’s still funded this quarter? Let’s align to that instead of waiting for the thaw.

 

From the Client: We just need to conserve cash.

Response: Then every dollar needs to perform. Let’s focus on the channels already producing and amplify what’s working.

 

From the Client: People just aren’t buying right now.

Response: They are. They’re buying from whoever helps them save, survive, or get leaner. Let’s reposition to speak to that.

 

From the Client: We’ll restart when the market rebounds.

Response: By then you'll be fighting every company who waited. Let’s build while they sleep so you’re ahead when the rebound hits.

 

From the Client: Maybe it’s just not the right time.

Response: Everyone in your industry is saying that. Which is exactly what makes this the right time.

 

From the Client: You really think we can grow right now?

Response: Absolutely. Slow markets concentrate opportunity ... but only for the ones still playing.