I started my first blog post tonight and wanted to correct any grammar errors. Tonight, I was practicing rewriting an old classic sales letter “control” for The Wall Street Journal. Just concentrating on writing the lead was hard work. But with the help of a friend, I was able to get the lead written.
This is a great exercise to hone my skills.
The last few times I studied the craft of writing copy, I skipped rewriting the old classics. It wasn’t that I didn’t like those letters. It was that I didn’t understand what to write or what to do.
Have you ever had that problem? You knew you had to push through it—get it done—but you couldn’t figure out how?
Well, tonight I took that first step, and the words finally started flowing. It was a mess, but I got the words down in the Word document.
Then came the hard part: editing and rewriting a few lines. Then my friend critiqued it. I can still see the red lines and suggestions all over the place.
Picking myself up and dusting off my pride, I started again.
This time around came better results.
I was happy with the results.
It still wasn’t perfect, but it was better.
The Moment the Page Wasn’t Empty
What surprised me most wasn’t how hard this was—it was how much weight lifted once I finally started.
The task I’d been putting off stopped looming the moment the words were on the page. It wasn’t good. It wasn’t clean. But it existed.
That quiet fear—the not knowing what would come out—lost its grip once the document was no longer empty.
What was left was relief. And, if I’m honest, a small sense of pride. Not for writing something great—but for staying with it long enough to write anything at all.
The page wasn’t empty anymore.
Not getting it right—just getting it down.
For tonight, that was enough.