I’m not for everyone, and that’s by design.
I know you’re wondering why you’d pay a creative when generative AI is doing such a great job of things. Why bother hiring a designer when you can just prompt an AI to come up with an image? Forget the fact that the little details are totally messed up. Everyone has extra fingers, right? And who cares if it’s giving uncanny valley, it was (almost) freeeeeeee, baby.
And does anyone really know when to use an em-dash anyhow? Who really gives a shit if your corporate blog sounds like everyone else’s? They’re successful, so obviously it’ll work for you, too. It doesn’t matter if it’s well said, it just needs to be said. Doesn’t everyone just melt over line like, “Designed to help you achieve your goals in a fast-paced digital landscape”? Does anyone actually notice that Menu’s, CTA’s, and FAQ’s don’t need apostrophes?
Yeah. Some of us do.
Yeah, I get it. Truly. I’m lolsobbing, but I do hear you. None of us has money to waste right now, and figuring out what’s worth spending on feels brutal. But you’re losing more credibility than you’re saving in dollars when you dilute the creative.
If the writing is sloppy, people assume the thinking is sloppy. If you didn’t care enough to get the language right, where else are you cutting corners? You’re making growth harder than it needs to be.
You end up compensating with more ads, more posts, more noise, all because the core message doesn’t land.
Creative work costs what it costs because it’s hard to do well. And because most of what you see out there isn’t done well at all.
If you’re fine with clichés, AI tells, filler phrases, sloppy grammar, and copy that sounds like it was written for an algorithm instead of a human, that’s okay. And I really do mean that sincerely. There are thousands of people and tools that will give you exactly that, cheaply and quickly.
That’s not what I do. And I’m sure that’s obvious if you’ve read this far, because you’re probably either engaged or totally turned off by this point. Either way, I’ve made you feel something, and that’s a win.
The Difference Isn’t Effort, It’s Judgment.
Everyone puts in effort. Even when it’s just plopping ideas into ChatGPT and copy/pasting whatever it spits out. Effort’s not actually the differentiator between good and great creative, judgment is. And judgment only comes with years of education, experience, and a depth of understanding that few people (and no AI programs) have. We can scrape from the entire internet and still come up hollow without the human judgment of a professional. Ask me how I know.
It’s about knowing the rules of language well enough to follow them when they matter and break them when they don’t. It’s about understanding tone, rhythm, implication, and subtext. It’s about knowing when a sentence should feel clean and when it should feel sharp. (And what makes a sentence “feel,” too.) It’s also knowing when to stop writing because saying less will mean more.
That doesn’t come from prompts or templates. It comes from years of reading, writing, editing, cutting, rewriting, and paying attention to how people actually respond to words. It comes from observing behaviour, understanding the psychology and sociology of media consumption, and from trial and error.
I think it was Picasso who said, “Learn the rules like a professional so you can break them like an artist.” I realize that distinction is invisible to people who don’t care about language, but it’s immediately obvious to people who do. Who do you want to attract?
Audiences Aren’t Dumb, They’re Exhausted.
People aren’t failing to engage because they’re inattentive or dim. They’re disengaged because they’re totally drowning. They scroll past hundreds of thousands of words a day, they’ve learned to filter aggressively, they can smell hollow language instantly, and they know when something is talking at them instead of to them. Most content fails because it sounds like content.
The only thing that still cuts through is language that feels human. It’s direct, specific, and unafraid to say something real instead of something optimized. That kind of writing takes time, critical thinking, and restraint. And it takes someone who understands how language works, not just how to fill space.
Why My Work Costs What It Costs
My pricing reflects the fact that my words work. My work doesn’t need ten rounds of revision. It doesn’t need explaining. It doesn’t need apologizing for. It doesn’t collapse when someone actually reads it closely. I spend an insane amount of time getting to know my clients, their brands, their tones of voice, their core demographic’s interests and triggers. My favourite thing in the world is digging into a new topic and learning absolutely everything I can about it, to make sure my words carry weight, truth, and authority.
Everything I write sounds like a human because it respects the reader. I help my clients say something real. And it works the first time, because none of want to endlessly punt stuff back and forth. Cheap copy looks affordable at the start, sure, but it gets expensive later when it has to be rewritten, rethought, or replaced because it never did what it was supposed to do at the start.
Who I’m For (And Who I’m Definitely Not For)
My writing is for people who really care how they sound. It’s for people who understand that language builds trust, and people who know their audience is smarter than most marketing assumes. It’s for people who value people, really. And it’s for people who’d rather say one honest thing than five empty ones.
If that’s not you, that’s fine. There are faster and cheaper options everywhere. If it is you, then you already understand the pricing.
Because my work isn’t decorative.
It isn’t generic.
And it isn’t disposable.
My work costs what it costs because it’s really. fucking. great.