A tale of terror, triumph, and family obligations. Oh, and copywriting.
Every horror story begins innocuously: a creak in the attic, a shadow in the doorway, an email that starts with “I have a quick favour to ask.”
As a professional copywriter, I’ve seen my share of nightmare briefs. The clients who want “something casual but also professional”, founders who need copy that “speaks to everyone”, and business owners who insist their target audience is “literally anyone with money.”
I’ve survived them all.
But nothing – nothing – could have prepared me for the most terrifying copywriting challenge of my career. And it didn’t come from a client. It came from someone far more dangerous.
Family.
The First Warning Sign
It started six months before The Incident, when my friend asked if I’d officiate their wedding.
“You’re so good with words and you’re a great speaker,” they said, as if that was a reason to entrust me with the most important ceremony of their lives. “It’ll be easy for you!”
Narrator: It was not easy.
Here’s what civilians don’t understand about copywriters: yes, we write stuff down for a living. Yes, we can make a SaaS product sound exciting or convince people that they absolutely need artisanal cheese subscriptions.
But condensing the entirety of two people’s love story, hopes, dreams, and commitment into fifteen minutes of spoken word that needs to make 150 people simultaneously laugh and cry without being cringe is not copywriting.
No pressure, though.
The Descent into Madness
I spent months on that ceremony. Months. While other copywriters were writing website content and SEO blogs I was…. doing that too. But I was also diving into the philosophical depths of matrimonial commitment in my spare time.
I wrote. I rewrote. I deleted everything and started over at 3am on a Tuesday because the tone wasn’t quite right. I sat at the bar in The Pessimist frowning at my notebook. I tested transitions on anyone who’d listen. I obsessed over whether “journey” was too cliché (it is) and whether I could get away with a subtle Princess Bride reference (I could not).
The copywriting skills I’d honed over years – understanding audience psychology, crafting compelling narratives, playing with semantic fields – all of it came to bear on this single ceremony. And the stakes were higher than any marketing campaign I’d ever written.
The Day of Reckoning
The wedding arrived. I stood there in front of a bunch of well-dressed acquaintances. My entire professional reputation was on the line in front of everyone. My heart hammered. My palms sweated.
I began.
Now, I don’t mean to brag, but it was bloody fantastic. Every word landed. The audience laughed at the funny bits. They teared up at the emotional bits. The couple loved it.
It was perfect. Perfect .
When I pronounced them married, relief flooded through me like I’d just submitted the final draft of the most important assignment of my life. I felt like a huge weight had been lifted.
I needed a glass of wine.
The Calm Before the Storm
I made my way to the bar. Slowly. Very slowly.
Every few metres, someone stopped me. “That was so beautiful.” “I’ve never heard a ceremony like that.” “You should do this professionally.” (I wanted to explain that I already did this professionally, just with less emotional jeopardy, but I smiled and nodded instead.)
Forty minutes. It took me forty agonizing minutes to traverse the distance between the ceremony space and the bar. But finally, parched and with my ego thoroughly inflated, I ordered a pinot grigio.
I’d done it. I’d survived the most intense copywriting project of my career. I could breathe again.
My sister and her fiancé appeared. We toasted to the happy couple.
“That was incredible,” my sister said, smiling. “So much more personal than a regular wedding ceremony”.
“Thanks,” I managed, sensing the trap closing around me.
“So… we were wondering…”
Dun Dun DUUUNNNNNN
Time slowed. The sounds of the reception faded. Somewhere in the distance, ominous music swelled.
“Would you officiate our wedding?”
The glass slipped from my hand in slow motion. (Not really, just metaphorically).
The PTSD Kicks In
The months of agonizing. The sleepless nights. The seventeen rounds of couple interviews. The existential crisis over whether love is best described as “a journey” or “an adventure” or whether both are too cliché and I should just throw my notepad into the Brayford.
I’d just survived the Everest of copywriting challenges. I’d poured everything into creating something perfect. And now they wanted me to do it again?
But worse. So much worse.
Because this was my sister. It would have to be even better.
The pressure was incomprehensible. How do you top perfection? How do you make something even better when you’ve already given your absolute best? How do you craft a ceremony more meaningful, more personal, more emotionally resonant than the one you just spent half a year creating?
Every copywriter knows this terror: the brief after the brilliant project. The client who loved your last campaign so much they want you to do it again, but better. The impossible expectation you’ve set for yourself.
Except this time, it was family. I wanted to do it, but I didn’t know if I could top the performance I’d just done.
Professional Copywriting is Tough
Sometimes the most challenging copywriting projects are the ones you never saw coming.
You learn to manage impossible expectations and your best becomes the baseline for what comes next.
So I said yes. Obviously, I said yes.
And then I drank more pinot grigio and scribbled the beginnings of a wedding service onto a napkin.
From Napkin to Nuptuals
I interviewed my sister and her fiancé. Multiple times. I asked questions I’d never thought to ask before. I mined deeper into their story, their relationship, what made them them in a way that was distinct from any other couple.
Whether you’re writing website copy, brand messaging, or wedding vows, the principle is the same: generic, soulless crap is the enemy. Specificity is what resonates.
I wrote and I rewrote. I threw out entire sections and started again. I obsessed over word choices, rhythm, and assonance. I tested different structures. I killed my darlings left and right.
And slowly something emerged that was even better than the first ceremony.
The Big Day
When my sister’s wedding day arrived, I stood in front of our friends and family.
The ceremony was everything it needed to be – personal, meaningful, authentic, and utterly unique to them.
It was my finest work, and the glass of wine hit differently this time, as I sipped it safe in the knowledge that I only have one sibling.
The world’s most difficult copywriting brief was behind me.
The Lesson in All This (because after this much rambling, there should probably be one)
I’ve written copy for tech startups, established corporations, entrepreneurs, and global brands. I’ve crafted websites, email campaigns, social media strategies, and sales pages that converted clicks into conversions.
The same skills that go into crafting a wedding ceremony go into writing content for businesses. You need to understand your audience intimately, find the specific angles that resonate, choose every word with intention, create emotional connection, and deliver something authentic rather than generic. Those are exactly the skills that separate forgettable copy from copy that converts.
Whether I’m writing your About page, your product descriptions, your email sequence, or yes, apparently, your wedding vows, the approach is the same: deep research, strategic thinking, meticulous craft, and a refusal to settle for “good enough.”
If I can spend months agonizing over wedding ceremonies for people I love, imagine what I’ll do for your business copy. I’ll still agonize, but with slightly less emotional trauma.
The Aftermath (& the Call to Action)
Both couples are still happily married, in case you were wondering. And I’ve successfully avoided any further requests to officiate weddings by developing a nervous twitch whenever anyone says “I have a favour to ask.”
If you’re still reading, then you probably find my writing engaging. Huzzah!
Whether you need website copy that actually converts, content that sounds like a human wrote it, or brand messaging that resonates with your audience, I bring the same obsessive attention to detail to every project. Just with better boundaries and faster turnaround times.
Get in touch and let’s talk about your project. We might be a match made in heaven (and yes, that was definitely too cringey to make the cut)!