A Poet Thrills the Soul, but a Copywriter Sells One

Last time we looked at the figure of speech chiasmus and how it might be used as a tool for generating memorable or effective copy. Here’s the short version: Chiasmus is the reversal of words in successive, balanced clauses or phrases. We came up with a keeper out of that exercise (“Finding perfect words and perfecting words found”).

Today we look at another figure of speech — antithesis, which is the juxtaposition of opposite concepts in successive, balanced clauses or phrases. As with chiasmus, clauses and phrases are generally parallel, but not always.

It has been my experience that folks who have no vices have very few virtues. — Abraham Lincoln

The last temptation is the greatest treason: to do the right deed for the wrong reason. — TS Eliot

It takes a tough man to make a tender chicken. — Frank Perdue.

Nothin’ says lovin’ like somethin’ from the oven. — Pillsbury Doughboy

and, finally:

What is the difference between unethical and ethical advertising? Unethical advertising uses falsehoods to deceive the public; ethical advertising uses truth to deceive the public. — Vilhjalmur Stefansson

In the spirit of that last example comes my first:

A Poet thrills the Soul, but a Copywriter sells one.

Maybe the simplest way to use this figure is to begin with a statement, then turn it on its head:

You can pay more for copywriting, but you won’t get more.

Continuing the value pitch:

First class copywriting on an economy ticket.

You could use that one over and over. Just swap out the industry.

Top shelf copywriting for the price of well.

or

Ferrari copywriting that won’t cost you a Corolla.

But maybe I don’t want to compete on price. Maybe I want to compete on erudition.

Erudite copy by a writer who knows what’s wrong with this pitch. Instinctively.

I’m not sure what erudition* is, either, but it sounds good.

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*Looked it up. My instinct was right!

Chiasmus and the Copywriter

Copywriters have been using figures of speech in their work forever. And by figures of speech, I don’t mean idioms or euphemisms, I mean figures from classical rhetoric. These are well-defined shapes and patterns in language. For classical rhetoricians, such patterns start at the highest level of organization and reach all the way down to sentences, clauses, phrases and words.

Let’s look at one.

Parallelism is the repetition of patterns of words, phrases and clauses. It adds rhythm, clarity and coherence. Chiasmus is the anti-parallelism. It reverses the order of words and phrases. Rhythm is preserved, but intriguing new meanings and connotations erupt. This discussion by the guy who wrote the book on it is tops.

The classic example of chiasmus comes from Mae West:

It’s not the men in your life that matters, it’s the life of your men.

There are others you may recognize:

Ask not what your country can do for you – ask what you can do for your country.

You can take the boy out of the country, but you can’t take the country out of the boy.

I am stuck on Band-Aid, and Band-Aid’s stuck on me.

Sorry, Charlie. Starkist wants tuna that tastes good, not tuna with good taste.

How about a couple for Lars Peterson Editorial Services?

Dr. Mardy Grothe, linked above, used this line from the Bible, “Whoever sheds the blood of man by man shall his blood be shed,” as an example of chiasmus that reverses more than one or two terms (there’s no limit, by the way). Let’s use it as a model.

A Copywriter who pens words that sell must first sell himself with words he pens.

That sounds heavy and old timey. And the rhythm is not quite right in the second clause (“himself” messes it up). Worse, it’s not specific to me.

Let’s start with another truism, in tighter, brighter language, and reverse it somehow in the second clause.

All copywriters think they write like Hemingway. He wouldn’t have thought to write like me.

Better! Self-deprecating humor can work (“With a name like Smucker’s, it has to be good.”), but I don’t want to give clients an easy way to pass on me. And it’s not tight and bright enough.

Let’s keep it under ten words, for both clauses or phrases, and make it specific to what I do (writing and editing).

Finding perfect words and perfecting words found.

Now we’re getting somewhere. Still a little stuffy, and not easy to say aloud, but definitely one for the keeper file.

What Does a Writing Teacher Know About Copywriting?

He doesn’t know what he doesn’t know about it, and so copywriting may become a rich source of Now I Know mini-essays. I do know a few things about writing, in general. Here are some of the pearls I frequently share with my writing students, in no particular order.

  • Show don’t tell;
  • Be clear and concise;
  • Choose the right word;
  • Write active sentences;
  • Understand parallelism;
  • The most important part of the introduction is the hook;
  • OK, I lied: the hook is the most important part of the introduction that comes before the thesis, which is the most important part of the entire thing;
  • (Still, come up with a good hook, otherwise nobody will read your thesis);
  • Think about your audience, but don’t pander to them;
  • If you imagine that your audience is *this much* dumber than you are, you will write with more clarity and coherence. This is not pandering;
  • Don’t use “you”*;
  • You can begin a sentence with “Because”*, but only when “Because” is used in the sense of “Since”;
  • When in doubt, describe;
  • Revise as many times as time allows;
  • Proofread at least once more than you think you need to.

A copywriter who added some tricks from Classical Rhetoric to that list could do pretty well. But that’s a topic for another day.
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*Here my experience as a writing teacher bumps up against my experience as a demographic target and a copywriter. One would be hard pressed to find ad copy that does not rely heavily on both “you” and “because” (and not in the sense of “since”).

Thinking Outside the Box

Everybody wants creative solutions to problems and when they are looking to hire people to help them find creative solutions, everybody asks for creative problem solvers who can “think outside of the box” or who are “out of the box” thinkers.

Everybody does this. What’s outside the box about that?

What we need is a new term or phrase to describe thinking that’s outside the box. In fact, let’s stop passively describing it and start actively measuring it. Let’s rationalize out of the box thinking. Let’s give it a metric. Creative workers will tally up their Eurekas! and divide them by hours worked. Freelancers can include the figure on their CVs and recruiters can ask about it on their questionnaires.

“How many Eurekas per Hour do you average?” a recruiter might ask.  Once the measurement becomes the established norm, a recruiter might slip into shorthand and ask, “What’s your Eureka Rate?” At which point, we’ll know that we’ve finally slipped free of the box and I’ll need a new way to differentiate myself.

My response will be, “Hard to say what my Eureka Rate is. My box of Eurekas overflows.”