The Copywriting Process And Why 80% Of The Work Happens Before The Writing Starts

Here’s something that surprises most people when they hire a copywriter: the writing is the last thing we do.

Not the first thing. Not even the middle thing. The last thing.

By the time my fingers hit the keyboard to write your website copy, your captions, or your treatment menu descriptions, I’ve already spent hours doing things that look absolutely nothing like writing. Things that, from the outside, might look like I’m procrastinating, spiralling or just really into Google.

I’m not. (Well, Sometimes.)

But good copy doesn’t start with words. It starts with everything that comes before them, and that “everything” is the part most people never see.

The deep dive (a.k.a. the part that looks like stalking)

Before I write a single line of your copy, I’m knee-deep in research, and I don’t mean a quick scroll through your Instagram. I mean, I’m reading your competitors’ websites like I’m dressing as them for Halloween.

I’m going through their Google reviews. I’m looking at what they say, how they say it, and, more importantly, what they’re not saying that you could.

I’m reading your reviews too. Not to be nosy (okay, partly to be nosy), but because your clients’ words are gold. The way they describe their experience, the phrases they use, the specific things they rave about - that language tells me more about how to sell your services than any brief ever could.

I’m Googling your hero ingredients. I’m reading clinical studies about peptides at 9am on a Tuesday like a completely normal person. I’m watching your Instagram Reels to understand how you speak so I can make your copy sound like you on paper, not like a copywriter pretending to be you.

And yes, I’m looking at what’s happening in the wider world. Because if the economy is shaky, your copy can’t lead with “treat yourself.” If the wellness industry is having a reckoning about inclusivity, your brand can’t be using language that accidentally excludes half your audience. Context matters.

The strategy (a.k.a. the part that looks like staring at a wall)

Once I’ve done the research, I’m not writing yet. Sorry. Still not writing. Now I’m mapping out a strategy. Which means I’m asking questions like:

• What’s the goal of this page? Is it to book? To build trust? To sell a product? To stop someone scrolling and make them think “this brand gets me”? Because each of those goals requires a completely different approach, and “a bit of everything” is how you end up with a page that does none of them well.
  

• Who’s reading this? Not just “women aged 25-45 who like skincare”. I need to know what she’s worried about, what she’s already tried, what made her hesitate last time, and whether she’s the type to read every word or skim to the bottom and look for a price.
  

• Different people need different copy. I’m thinking about neurotypes, reading patterns, attention spans, and the fact that she’s probably reading your website on her phone while supervising homework and half-watching something on Netflix.
  

• What’s the journey? I’m mapping out where someone lands, what they read first, what keeps them scrolling, and where the natural point is for them to think, “okay, I’m in.” That’s not a writing decision. That’s an architecture decision. And it happens before a single word is chosen.

The voice (a.k.a. the part that looks like overthinking)

Then there’s brand voice. Which sounds like a buzzword, but is the difference between copy that sounds like you and copy that sounds like it was written by a work experience kid who read your website once and said, “yeah, I reckon I’ve got it.”

I’m thinking about whether your brand is warm or sharp. Playful or authoritative. Whether you’d say “get in touch” or “book a consult” or “let’s do this.” Whether a cheeky pun is on-brand or whether it would make your audience feel like you’re not taking them seriously.

I’m also thinking about inclusivity at the word level. Are we saying “anti-ageing” or have we moved past that? Does “flawless” land as aspirational or exclusionary? Would a 9-year-old understand this paragraph? (That’s my unofficial readability test, and it’s saved more copy than I can count.)

All of this happens before I’ve written a word. Sometimes it takes longer than the writing itself. Often, it does.

Then, and only then, the writing

By the time I sit down to write, I’m not staring at a blank page wondering what to say. I know what to say, I know who I’m saying it to, and I know what I want them to feel, think, and do after they’ve read it.

The writing part is — dare I say it — the easy part. Not because writing is easy (it’s not, anyone who tells you otherwise is lying or hasn’t tried), but because when the copywriting process is solid, the words almost fall into place.

Almost. I still need the almond latte. Let’s not get carried away.

So what does the copywriting process mean for you?

It means when you hire a copywriter, a good one, you’re not paying for words on a page. You’re paying for the thinking behind them. The research. The strategy. The hours of competitive analysis, audience psychology, and yes, occasionally, reading about the state of the economy before breakfast.

If they skip the research phase entirely, they're either the most naturally gifted human on the planet or they're copying and pasting from Chatty G and praying you don't notice the word "delve" three times on your homepage.

The writing is the tip of the iceberg. A very well-worded, beautifully strategic, makes-people-book-things tip. But still just the tip (that’s what she said. Sorry. Couldn’t resist.)

If you want a copywriter who considers all of this (and more) for your beauty brand, let’s chat. I’ll bring the words, you bring the brief. The almond latte is on me. Emotionally, not financially. I’m a copywriter, not a millionaire.