I’m in the middle of taking a free writing course from John Carlton, and I urge you to jump in with me.

Click here to check it out. No cost.

It’s a cool little series of free lessons called the Simple Writing System Express. No cost. It’s quick and easy. But super instructive. You’ll see what I mean.

Full disclosure: John Carlton is a master copywriter who is about to open up his Simple Writing System. He only runs it a couple time a year because it’s very interactive. You work with a mentor who drills you and critiques you. It’s a great way to learn copywriting. I’m an affiliate of his because I believe in what he teaches. Be warned: His no-BS confidence in himself might put you off, but I’d rather tie in with a smart shark than a polite minnow.

What does this have to do with you?

Well, the demand is HUGE for good copywriting. Since I’m all about making money as a freelance writer, I’d be doing you a disservice not to call to your attention people like John Carlton.

Copywriting, of course, means stuff like Internet marketing sales letters, or sales copy of any sort. Print ads. Branding materials. Slogans. Taglines. What business or Web entrepreneur doesn’t need good sales or promo copy? They all do. Just poke around the Web a bit. To put it politely, most sales messages suck. If you can write, why not hone your skills and learn a lucrative corner of the craft?

Back to that free writing course. I just did the first lesson myself. I bet you can spot my homework on the lesson website, even though it’s anonymous. Hint: I’m #50.

Just click here.

The gist of the first lesson, called The Bar Conversation, is getting inside the head of your “prospect.” Identifying his needs, his hurt points. You’ll notice a few things as you look through the homework assignments posted in the comments section, and the mentors’ responses.

One, a lot of the writers didn’t follow instructions. They missed the point.

Two, a lot them couldn’t articulate their prospects’ hurt points.

Even if you don’t intend to try copywriting, all this is extremely valuable to all of us freelance writers. Our mission is really the same. First, we have to follow a few instructions. That means targeting the right publications and websites, striking the right voice, fulfilling all the terms of our assignments.

And, like copywriters, we have to be able to get into the heads of our readers or would-be readers. (Our editors, too, sometimes!) That’s how we attract them, engage them, and leave them wanting to hear from us again. We don’t write for ourselves. We write for them. Readers are our clients.

Try the free course. Let me know how you do. And tell me how I did. The head I’m trying to get into, after all, is yours.

Details, details.

I know a good lead when I see one. So do you.

How do we know a lede is good?

We keep reading.

(“Lede,” by the way, is journalismspeak so you don’t confuse the opening of a story with the stuff of sinkers and bullets. Either is fine, but I’ll stick with the lingo here.)

Sometimes I plow past a sucky lede. I’m curious (or stuck on an airplane having finished reading a novel)—will this thing get any better? Almost always, my first impression is proven right. Hence this credo:

Bad lede = bad story

Even if the story improves, bad lede = bad story because if no one reads it, it’s a bad story. (That goes for sales letters, ads, blog posts, and novels, too.)

Does this lede grab you?

Bill “Buddy” Menendez parks his big pickup truck on a narrow, winding road in western Jamaica. A short cloudburst greets us as we step out of the vehicle. A little rain is good, Buddy says. It’ll keep us cool today. We  scramble over a high mound to a broad overlook. There, the Blue Mountain Canyon spreads out before us. My heart leaps.

I’ve changed words and the setting so as not to publicly embarrass the writer. Or the editor who allowed this to see the light of print in a national magazine. It’s a paraphrase.

So what’s wrong with it?

Mainly it’s boring. Nothing about it intrigues me. No sense of mystery. Nothing happens, and there’s no suggestion that anything will happen. Nothing portentous. Nothing unusual. Nothing seems out of place.

All it does is set the scene. The editor should have informed the writer that the scene will be nicely set by way of a headline and photo, thanks very much. Give me something to care about in this lede.

It’s also muddled. Is it a travel story about a natural wonder? A profile of a local guide? A focus on one or the other could easily sharpen the observations and action. If it’s both, yoke them together somehow.

By the way, muddled focus proved to be a problem throughout the story. The writer never developed the guide as a cool character, and never gave the terrain more than vague, clichéd nods like, “beautiful, lush valley…all of it impressive.”

Proving once again:

Bad lede = bad story

What else is bad about this lede?

Absence of details.

We’re obliged as writers to be sharp observers. And reporters. What we don’t understand, we have to find out. Simply specifying the truck as something more than “big” could have said a lot about the guide and the setting. Maybe it’s a ’63 Willys with rusting fenders. Maybe it’s a cherry-red Dodge Ram with ArmorAll’d tires. Either one would suggest something intriguing.

Or forget the truck, since it proves to be a red herring anyway. Maybe drop in a detail about something Buddy’s wearing. We learn later that the story is really about a hike into the canyon, that Buddy hikes in flip-flops, and that the writer is nervous about hiking the trail. His heart leaps from nervousness, not awe, but we don’t know that. Why not introduce the flip-flops, the wariness, and some initial observations about the precipitous trail right up front?

Maybe it could read something like this:

The Blue Mountain Canyon Trail makes 237 hairpin turns in the course of its 12-mile plummet to the Blue River, 4,436 feet below the canyon rim. I see most of them from my dizzying trailhead vantage point. Gulp. To me, cinching the laces on a pair of four-pound Vasque hiking boots with deep Vibram tread makes perfect sense. My guide, Buddy Menendez, kicks into a pair of Walmart flip-flops.

Okay, not brilliant. But see how dropping in details serves as shorthand? Details also suggest that you’re in the hands of an observant writer. They build confidence.

We need to see in details, not in generalities. We owe that to the reader. Details give us credibility, and they give us storytelling fodder—in our ledes and throughout our pieces. The craft of writing is a whole lot easier when we have details at our disposal.

I recall many times as an editor kicking a story back to a writer because he didn’t name his trees. “Madrones” are always better than “trees.” Even better than “oaks.” Give me Sitka spruce or Douglas fir over pine trees anyway. If the trees droop with moss, if they’re speckled with epiphytes, if their trunks are twisted, so much the better. Details serve and portend.

Back to ledes. I’ll close with one I loved in a recent Men’s Journal story by Bucky McMahon. It too is about an adventure on an island. But notice how the details service the whole. Notice the playfulness even as he admits to fear, and the way he intrigues us with observations of some pretty bizarre stuff. Bucky the Brave! Great lede.

The first time I saw Orongo, the archaeological site of the Easter Island Birdman cult, the hair on the back of my neck bristled with acrophobia and awe. It had taken our tour group all afternoon to hike to the top of Rano Kau volcano, hoofing it single file along the knife-edge rim trail to where it broadened and flattened at the cliffs of Orongo. Orongo the Bizarro! Stonehenge for the Unhinged! The grassy plateau, studded with obsessively etched boulders, seemed precariously perched between the interior crater and a thousand-foot drop to the crashing Polynesian surf. In the fading light we admired the hundreds of petroglyphs carved by the Rapa Nui (as Easter Islanders call themselves and their island), picking out the depictions of gods and heroes and oversize vaginas.

You want to continue, right? Good lede = good story: Click here.

John Carlton — "the most ripped-off and respected copywriter alive."

I’ve been to my share of writers conferences. They can be good for getting a recharge, gaining inspiration, or for commiserating with my brethren. Rarely, though, do I come away feeling like what I gained will directly repay the cost of attending. And that’s okay. I go for less-measurable reasons.

But I’m planning to attend one on January 29–30 that will be different.

It’s John Carlton’s Action 2010 seminar in San Diego.

John Carlton is one of the country’s most successful copywriters. He and a panel of super-successful copywriters and marketing masters will be sharing tactics and strategies geared to getting us attendees to formulate a workable action plan for success in 2010.

I like the sound of that. Much better than vague resolutions like “query more” or “land more narrative features.”

Here’s a blurb from his sales letter for the event:

“We’re breaking the mold on seminars (yet again)…

… and creating a resource-rich space where you will be literally surrounded by trusted professionals (the best in the biz)…

… all interacting with you and other attendees…

… on the really important stuff behind growth and business success.”

If you’re unclear what copywriting is, it’s essentially writing marketing and/or advertising copy, online or off-line. If you’re a good writer, you should consider it—even if it’s only to better sell yourself.

You know me primarily as a magazine journalist. But notice I never call myself anything but “writer.” I’ve done a fair amount of copywriting over the years, and it’s been a lucrative addition to my writing income.

I readily admit I have much to learn. Why not learn from the best?

Even if you’re not an aspiring copywriter, you should view yourself as an entrepreneur, a businessperson. That’s how you should run your writing life. And that means marketing yourself and marketing your writing.

All too often, freelance writers lean too far to the artsy side of the spectrum and neglect to see and market themselves as businesses. That’s why so many writers are struggling.

I’m going to Action 2010 to help break that mold. I hope some of you will join me. It’s that rarest of all writers conferences—one that I know will repay the cost of admission. Many times over.

One more quote from Carlton:

“I’m going to guarantee that you come away with a list of at least 12 specific Action Plan tactics you’ll be able to implement immediately to increase your bottom line.”

I’d say that’s pretty persuasive copy.

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Click here to learn more about John Carlton’s Action 2010.