The guy who
wrote my
last website
is dead.

The deceased? He seemed like a nice enough chap. In fact, he was me. A more youthful me. The 2018 me, who no longer exists.

Despite doing a decent job on the old site, that bum-fluffed scamp just didn't have my level of experience.

If he and I were finalists on The Great British Copy Off, I’d completely wipe the floor with him. OK, maybe that’s a slight exaggeration. I’d narrowly wipe the floor with him. I’d trounce him by a whisker.

Because I’m at least 4.1% better at copywriting than he was. Maybe, with a fair wind behind me and a few double espressos inside me, as much as 4.6% better.

I'm also a little more flamboyant with my use of unsubstantiated statistics than the younger, more cautious Miller.

In short, 2018 me wasn’t peak me. Not by a long shot. As I hope you'll eventually discover to the benefit of your wonderful brands, the best was yet to come.

Now scroll. Scroll, my raven-haired beauties… I mean my potential clients. Scroll like the wind.

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Blimey, I must
be good.
I even managed
to sell me.

During the dark – and painfully quiet – days of lockdown, I went on LinkedIn to commit a crime against musical metaphors: I blew my own trumpet to drum up business.

Happily, my posts did the trick. There are three here but, as my long-suffering LinkedIn connections will confirm, I did quite a few more than that. I was an unstoppable campaign machine.

Imagine what I could do if working for you or your clients – with all those wonderful product features and those enviable USPs. Rather than doing ads for whatever this is. *points at self*

And a wee while before that, I wrote my festive mailshot.
Designer: Rob Taylor at Like a River.

What the heck. I’m on a roll now. In for a penny,
in for a pound. I did this a couple of years ago.
Sound on? Then hit play.

Oh, and there’s this. There’s no sound with this one.

I’ll finish with this: an actual paper and ink mailshot
*waits for gasps to subside*
that I sent to unsuspecting creative directors.

*

Concepts,
copy and lofty principles.

Just because I’m for hire (full-time or freelance, folks), it doesn’t mean that I can be bought by just anyone.

I’m not one of those venal, anything-for-money copywriters. No sirree. I have a highly developed sense of right and wrong. My moral compass is unerring and true.

What’s that you say? You sell a range of baby bootees handwoven from asbestos fibres by seven-year-olds in an East Kilbride sweatshop?

Well, you’re a disgrace. And yet you seriously expect me to write a script for your fancy, big-budget commercial.

Um… exactly how big a budget, incidentally?

Really? Wow.

I can do something with that. Something incredible. I’ll fire some first thoughts over to you tomorrow morning, along with the names of a few possible directors.

Speak later. Ciao! x

*

Hang in there,
you brave soul.
Not long
to go now.

It’s like the first time you swam 25 metres without armbands. If you get to the end of my website, you’re entitled to a badge and a certificate.

You’re not quite there yet, though. So take this opportunity to have a breather.

Put the kettle on. Suck in a few lungfuls of nitrous oxide from a pressurised cylinder. Get an epidural. Have a Rich Tea biscuit with a pinch of opium. Whatever it takes.

Then grit your teeth, flex your favourite scrolling finger and finish the job. Your family will be so proud of you when you do.

They swore me to secrecy, but they’re going to throw a surprise party to celebrate when you’ve read the whole site.

I’ve never seen so many boxes of bunting and just-past-their-sell-by-date prawn vol-au-vents in my life.

*

A career so
chequered,
you could use
my C.V. as a
chessboard.

(Before we go any further, please tell me you didn’t read that as “cheeseboard”. Pleeeeease.)

My advertising career began in the library at Y&R London. Back in those pre-Google days I was effectively Google. If you wanted to know the lyrics of the Botswanan national anthem or the adspend of the Belgian rubber goods market for every month since April 1937, I was your man.

But one fateful day, an irresponsible person at the agency told me I should really be a copywriter. Being highly suggestible, I immediately resigned to become a copywriter.

Here you’ll see the places I’ve worked at in that role. From aspiring copywriter to junior copywriter to senior copywriter to deputy CD.

I wrote nice
things. So
they wrote
nice things.

The lovely people below have paid me to write for them many times over the years. And now they’ve generously consented to write something for me in return.

I haven’t had so much as a hint of a suggestion of a sniff of an invoice from any of them, though. The mugs.

Because I even bill my kids for writing in their birthday cards. I don’t just write “Happy birthday!” you know. I draw on 30+ years of copywriting experience to write something special. And special doesn’t come cheap.

So I charge them. With payment terms of 28 days.

“Chris is a sparky, original writer with a sharp commercial awareness and a very droll turn of phrase. Just read his stuff. It's funny, persuasive and down-to-earth – and it doesn't sound anything like those average writers who all sound like each other. Oh and he's a lovely bloke too.”

Gerry Farrell | Founder, Gerry Farrell Ink | Former CD, The Leith Agency

“Chris is a delight to work with: witty, versatile, erudite. His words live up to expectations.”

Michael Hart | CD, The Union

“Chris Miller is one of the most eloquent copywriters I have ever had the pleasure to work with. A true wordsmith, entertainer and gentleman. If those sound like old-fashioned qualities, fear not, because Chris has his finger on the pulse of all that's new and relevant when talking to and writing for different audiences. In addition to his conscientious copy and concept talents, Chris also genuinely enhances the working environment. Every agency deserves someone who knows how to lighten the mood and lift people's spirits along the difficult road to creating better work. Chris deserves to work on brands that will delight in his ability to create a distinct tone of voice and then run with it. You'll struggle to find a copywriter more knowledgeable about his craft than Chris. The only thing he doesn't really know is how good he really is. Snap him up for a quick freelance project or to get the most out of him, a permanent agency role. His experience will help all the younger writers flourish, and his mere presence in agency life will bring a smile to people's faces. Be quick though, because sooner or later, he'll take everyone's advice and let the stand-up comedian inside him come out or write that award-winning TV sitcom.”

Alistair Ross | Founder, Logic Logic Magic | Former CD, The Gate London

“‘The copywriter with his own strapline.’ This is one of my favourite Twitter biographies and it belongs to Chris. It epitomises what Chris is all about. 1) He will fit great copy into all the nooks and crannies required of modern integrated communication, both offline and online. 2) He elegantly conveys personality and tone of voice in as little as six words. 3) He doesn't just write. His advertising background has taught him to be a focused conceptual thinker. 4) He "gets" the whole social thing. 5) That should be enough.”

Phil Adams | Founder, I know Some People Ltd. | Former Strategy Director, Cello Signal | Former MD, The Leith Agency

“Chris is an exceptionally gifted creative copywriter who brings a unique personality and flair to everything he touches. He has a wonderful way with words and always get the very best out of a brief.”

Colin Bennett | Designer, Apple

*

Uh-oh. It’s audience participation time.

And you, dear reader, are the audience. Don’t worry, though. The participation is entirely voluntary.

Which means there’s no need to hide from me by diving into the nearest laundry basket. Nor by retracting your head inside your own torso.

(Both are tactics that my family employ whenever I try to engage them in friendly conversation.)

But if you don’t find the idea too appalling, drop me a line using the form below. “A line?!” you ask. “About what?” About anything, really. If nothing else, it’d be lovely to know you were here.

*

cc@ccmiller.cc

In the past I may have occasionally griped about the excessive size of clients’ logos in ads.

It’s also entirely possible that I’ve sneered at those who’ve suggested a bigger phone number or url in an ad would make consumers more likely to respond to it.

So how can I excuse that colossal email address above? Easy. I excuse it on the grounds of my outrageous hypocrisy.

Happy to have cleared that up.

It now looks as though it’s time to say goodbye. Please don’t hesitate to drop me a line if you think I could be of any writerly help.

Thanks so much for reading. The vol-au-vents I mentioned earlier will shortly be defrosted. Avoid them at all costs.

Your badge and certificate are in the post.

Chris

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