Office desk setup with multiple monitors, a keyboard, a mouse, headphones, a printer, and a folder. A pegboard on the wall behind holds lanyards, a card, and a decorative embroidery hoop with the quote 't to love is to be vulnerable.' There is a potted plant on the right side.

I read the instruction manual first.

Other kids read storybooks. I was more interested in manuals, cookbooks, maps, signboards … anything that explains something to someone.

Growing up, that instinct followed me before I had a word for it. I considered teaching, then considered law for a while. I ended up majoring in journalism, which is essentially a formal way of learning how to present something complicated in a way that helps someone get it.

Copywriting was the first place that instinct found paid work, but it didn’t take long before I started running into its limits. I would write headlines that I thought could make someone care, but I couldn’t convince myself why they should. The brief would ask for word counts, formats, platforms — rarely “why should this campaign even exist?”

With strategy, I get to ask if something is worth saying before worrying about how to say it. Copywriting can explain something; strategy decides what is worth explaining. I didn't ditch one for the other; I grew into needing both.

A few first principles I hold onto, regardless of project:

  • Substance over form. A polished sentence around a hollow idea is still a hollow idea wrapped in prettier packaging. Promising something you can’t deliver is the fastest way to destroy trust.

  • Simplicity over formality. To me, “explain like I’m five” isn’t a writing exercise - it’s a philosophy. If a child or teen cannot understand something, it's not clear enough.

  • Clarity over cleverness. A witty line that requires explaining may win awards and make creative-types feel good, but may not ultimately convince someone to buy from you.

  • Quote the source. This is a habit I kept from journalism: if someone already said something well and truthfully, I carry it forward, not “improve” for the sake of sounding smart.

I don't primarily think of myself as someone who likes words; I think I’m someone who doesn’t want to be confused, and doesn’t want other people to be confused, either. If I've done the job right, nobody notices the writing - they understand something they didn't a minute ago.