From
honeycopy.com
Email Address
cole@honeycopy.com
Sent On
Fri, Jul 30, 2021 03:27 PM
Email Preheader Text
Your boy just threw on his blue-collared shirt. Because I got my hands dirty. I've mowed lawns, sp
HTML
Your boy just threw on his blue-collared shirt. Because I got my hands dirty. I've mowed lawns, spread mulch, laid sod, dug holes, ripped carpet, tore vinyl, clipped limbs and served tables. When I eventually found the pen, I put the manual labor behind me but the blue-collar way of thinking never left me. It still hasn't. I've never approached writing like art but instead, clocking into my shift each day to get to work. The luxury that the plumber and the arborist and the mechanic don't have is "inspiration". They aren't allowed to take the day off when the inspiration isn't there –– toilets still need to flush and limbs still need to be snipped before they turn wives into widows and folks still need to get to and from work in vehicles that runs. Work is work, whether you're writing poetry or roofing houses. And, the formula is always the same. You work steady, you sit your ass down in the chair, you hustle, you get out of bed on the days when the bed feels like heaven and your boots feel like hell. You got enough dog in you to do this, again and again, and you've got a real chance at making a living at something. When [Kent Lapp]( over at [Lift'd]( called me up about writing advertising for a 4,000 lb hydraulic trailer that makes roofers' lives a hell of lot easier, I was ready to get my hands dirty with some copy that spoke to those keeping the snow and the rain and the beating sun out of America's living rooms. All that to say, I'm damn proud of this project. Here's a small excerpt from the copy I wrote for them... " You ask just about anyone that makes a living with their hands what the toughest blue-collar job in America is, and they’ll say roofing. You’re literally fighting an uphill battle from sunrise to sunset and most of this battle is fought on shingles hotter than a Waffle House’s cooktop and underneath a bleating sun that’d turn a crocodile red. And, if these conditions weren’t hellish enough, you have Mrs. Robinson breathing down your neck, a pitbull with lipstick who expects you to remove a 2,400 square foot roof dilapidated to the point of kitty litter and replace it with three metric tons of shingles, all while not damaging a single petal on her Azaleas. You roofers are literally the Marines of blue-collar workers. But, as tough as you boys are, even you can’t take the wrath of Mrs. Robinson. So, while you bust your humps, we’re going to protect her Azaleas and, hopefully, make your job a bit easier. " And, that's a goddamn wrap. By [Cole Schafer](. P.S. If you need an ink-slinger and 1). are okay with pushing your brands voice and 2). have a budget of $5k+, respond to this email. [Or, peruse my portfolio.]( Don't have a budget of $5k?
No worries. If you don't have $5k just lying around, you can experience my work in other cheaper more digestible formats. 1. You can [tweet me]( (free).
2. You can buy my 1st book, [One Minute, Please?]( ($25).
3. You can buy my 2nd book, [After Her]( ($25).
4. You can subscribe to [Chasing Hemingway]( ($10).
5. You can buy my writing guide, [Snow Cones]( ($97).
6. You can buy my freelancing guide, [$100k]( ($97). [Or, you can buy me a fucking drink ($15).]( You have to read this letter Mick Jagger wrote to Andy Warhol. It’s 1969. The Rolling Stones are arguably the most notorious band on the planet. They’re closing in on the release of their highly anticipated album, “Sticky Fingers”. Around this same time, pop artist Andy Warhol is creating artwork out of his New York City studio The Factory. The Stones ask Warhol to design their album cover. Warhol says yes. Mick Jagger, The Stones’ front man, writes him. [Here's what he says...]( Billy Collins poetically warns against the use of transitions in this short, 24-line poem. I’ve been lapping up Billy Collins’s poetry ever since my dear friend, Ben Cake, recommended I read him. I, unintentionally, read his collection “Aimless Love” whilst working through Charles Bukowski’s “What matters most is how well you walk through the fire” and found them to be the most glorious of contrasts. When you read Collins, a feeling comes over you that I can best describe as an afternoon stroll, in the middle of fall when the air is cool but not overly so and the planet is popping with deep reds and oranges and yellows that are warm on the eyes; and everything feels easy and everything feels right. Collins’s poetry is calming, graceful and… easy. Bukowski’s, on the other hand, is anything but. Despite this contrast in style, both have a habit of passing along writing advice in their poetry. Billy Collins does just this in a 24-line poem titled “A word about transitions” where he warns against –– yes you guessed it –– transitions. I’m a whore where transitions are concerned so I found this poem to be both insecurity-inducing and hugely helpful. *Billy Collins is typing now* " Moreover is not a good way to begin a poem
though many start somewhere in the middle. Secondly should not be placed
at the opening of your second stanza. Furthermore should be regarded
as a word to avoid, Aforementioned is rarely found
in poems at all and for good reason. Most steer clear of notwithstanding,
and the same goes for nevertheless, however,
as a consequence, in any event, subsequently,
and as we have seen in the previous chapters. Finally’s appearance at the top
of the final stanza is not going to help. All of which suggests (another no-no)
that poems don’t need to tell us where we are or what is soon to come.
For example, the white bowl of lemons on a table by a window
is fine by itself and, in conclusion, so are
seven elephants standing in the rain. " [Speaking of poets.]( P.S. If this newsletter made you weak in the knees, you can share it with the world by selecting one of the four icons down below... [Send it.]( [Send it.]( [Tweet it.]( [Tweet it.]( [Share it.]( [Share it.]( [Post it.]( [Post it.]( Copyright © 2021 Honey Copy, All rights reserved.
A while back you opted into a weekly email called "Sticky Notes". Remember? If not, you can always unsubscribe below... and risk breaking this writer's heart. Our mailing address is: Honey Copy 3116 N. Central Park
Unit #1Chicago, IL 60618
[Add us to your address book]( Want to change how you receive these emails?
You can [update your preferences]( or [unsubscribe from this list](.
EDM Keywords (175)
yes
yellows
wrote
writer
wrath
worries
world
work
word
window
widows
whore
well
weak
warns
warm
walk
vehicles
use
update
unsubscribe
underneath
typing
tweet
turn
transitions
tough
top
threw
take
table
sunset
sunrise
subscribe
style
still
spoke
soon
something
soap
snow
snipped
sit
shingles
shift
share
send
seen
say
roofers
replace
remove
release
regarded
receive
ready
read
rain
put
pushing
protect
project
preferences
post
portfolio
popping
point
poetry
poems
poem
plumber
planet
placed
pitbull
peruse
pen
overly
oranges
opted
opening
okay
notwithstanding
need
neck
moreover
middle
mechanic
matters
marines
making
makes
luxury
living
literally
list
lipstick
lift
lemons
lapping
knees
keeping
job
inspiration
hustle
humps
help
hell
heart
hands
hand
habit
guessed
grab
got
going
goes
glorious
get
found
fought
formula
flush
fire
fine
fall
factory
eyes
experience
expects
example
even
emails
email
despite
design
days
day
damaging
copy
cool
cooktop
contrasts
contrast
consequence
conditions
conclusion
concerned
come
closing
cheaper
change
chair
called
buy
bust
budget
boys
boy
begin
bed
battle
back
azaleas
ass
ask
arguably
arborist
appearance
anything
anyone
america
always
allowed
air
5k
1969