Why Are You a Copywriter?

It all started on a bright sunny afternoon in Tampa Fl. The beaches were buzzing with activity, gorgeous women in bikinis, kids digging in the sand, the soft sound of the wind in the palm trees, a 140 foot cruise ship picking up speed as it set its sites on its journey towards the Carribbean.

Yet, locked up in his insignificant cubicle on the 7th floor of a sky rise in downtown Tampa, 32 year old Seth Czerepak sat like Quasimoto holed up in the bell tower of Notre Dame, aching for his long lost love...


...the love of creating, building and contributing something meaningful to his fellow man and making loads of money doing it.

Like many aspiring entrepreneurs, he had bought the myth of job security. He had the job making over $100k a year, the condo on Westshore Blvd and the Yellow Lab named Rocky.

But something was missing, and as the sun was setting outside his 7th story window, he saw his entire life as if it had already happened.

He would watch the blue and orange sunset, day after day, while locked up in his proverbial belltower, hypnotized by the sound of his own voice...

"Welcome to Verizon, this is Seth speaking how can I provide you with excellent service today?

...meanwhile, his dreams of being an entrepreneur would die slowly as he clutched them in his hand long after they'd turned to dust.

The hairs of his head would wax grey, wrinkles would distort his features and the long and hopeful years of his youth would dry up and blow away like leaves in the wind.

As he was sitting there in his cubicle, watching the paint dry on the wall (that was for you Mark ;-)) he realized something...

He realized that he had a gift.

He had created call center scripts, sales training manuals and direct mail pieces that had made millions of dollars. His employers had scooped up these millions while he sat by begging for the crumbs that fell from the table.

He had coached entrepreneurs who made millions of dollars a year, while working for a company that was paying him a measly $22 a year.

But no more. The thought of working for someone else and helping them to build their dreams while his collected dust got him madder than a Ferrell cat dipped in beef gravy and tossed into a dog kennel.

He gave his two week's notice, all the while being told my his coworkers that there "weren't any jobs out there."

But he knew something they didn't know...


He knew that a true entrepreneur doesn't wait for jobs to come to them, they create their own. He knew that those who could use the written word to spur others to action could create opportunity in any economy.

Most of all, he knew that those who had such command over the written word drew their financial independence, not from the economy, nor from a job, nor from their net worth or even their current income.

He knew that they drew it from their intrinsic ability to create opportunity through the written word.

He struck the match. Fire flickered. The fuse lit and an explosion of entrepreneurial energy exploded like a Molotov cocktail. (lol)

That was over three years ago, and since then, our cubicle-Quasimodo-turned-hero has proven to himself and to his doubters that with words, we can write more than great copy, we can rewrite our destiny.