Day 1
Sell the concept of ‘doing nothing.’ No product. No CTA. Just a blank page that charges you €9.99 to look at it.
We want to be overachievers and all-rounders. A lawn that gets mowed every week, work that gets done with days to spare before the deadline, abs like on a chocolate bar, a fat wallet, reading all the books we bought before this year ends. We want it all. Who doesn’t?
We might be the biggest dreamers, but then we will also be the biggest liars in the universe (holds true till we find another planet with teeming life). Because if we really think we can do everything and overwhelm ourselves in the process, we will get nothing done.
Day 2
Rewrite IKEA’s copy as if the furniture was sentient and mildly offended you haven’t assembled it yet.
If there is a place brighter than a shopping mall and cleaner and cosier than your bed, it has to be IKEA. IKEA is a labyrinth where you get lost in both space and time, thanks to the hotdogs which lured you in. Very Swedish, but very American.
The furniture they sell might be more affordable than most custom woodworkers would bill you for, and might not last long enough to be passed down to your great grandchildren, but they are alive. Be it a futon, a sofa or just a rug, they are alive. How do I say this?
My IKEA coffee table needs assembly. I get it. Betty Crocker’s style of making your pancakes feel like you made them. I can say that I “built” my own coffee table. Only if I could. Right now the pretty oak veneer is peering into my soul. The wood dowels are lying there on the ground, but to my ADHD brain, they look like they will hold some form of vengeance towards me if I don’t put all nine of them together with the circular wood piece in exactly one business hour.
The table is called Listerby. Pretty quirky sounding. But it’s not just my coffee table. It’s named after a sweet city nestled with greens in Sweden, home to IKEA’s genius.
Day 3
Doomscrolling. It can’t be that bad, right?
Well, it literally has the word ‘doom’ in it.
Day 4
An ad for this exact copywriting challenge, written as if it’s a dangerous underground sport.
Day 5
Day 6
LinkedIn but the copy treats every career milestone as a survivor show elimination ceremony.
Day 7
A Gen Z anti-ad for a legacy brand that apologises for existing and somehow makes you love it.
Day 8
Write a product launch for ‘a Tuesday.’ No features. Just vibes. Competitors include Monday and Wednesday.
Day 9
Reimagine Apple’s ‘Think Different’ for a brand that desperately wants to think exactly the same as everyone else.
Day 10
A fake terms & conditions page written like a thriller novel, where the user is the antagonist.
Day 11
De-influence copywriting: a campaign that lists all the reasons you probably shouldn’t buy this product.
Day 12
An obituary for a font. Comic Sans died as it lived — misunderstood, at a child’s birthday party.
Day 13
Rewrite a budget airline’s safety card as if it were a high-fashion runway lookbook.
Day 14
A product page written entirely in aura. No nouns. No verbs. Just adjectives and a price.
Day 15
Mid-challenge crisis email. Brand voice: you. Tone: a person who has written 14 ads and feels nothing.
Day 16
A political campaign for Gravity. It keeps you grounded. It has been working silently for 4.5 billion years. Isn’t it time we said thanks?
Day 17
Netflix, but the copy is written by someone who hasn’t left the couch in 11 days and is proud of it.
Day 18
A cottage-core ad for a multinational corporation. Verdant meadows. Sourdough. Quarterly earnings.
Day 19
Sell silence. Premium silence. Artisanal, cold-pressed, small-batch silence. Limited edition.
Day 20
A copywriter reviews their own brain after 20 days of this. One star. Would not recommend. Keeps using it anyway.
Day 21
Duolingo but the owl has given up encouraging you and now the tone is just quiet disappointment.
Day 22
Write a ‘raw and unfiltered’ brand story that is clearly extremely filtered but uses the word ‘authentic’ eleven times.
Day 23
An infomercial for clouds. Problem: you don’t have enough clouds. Solution: look up. Call in the next 10 minutes.
Day 24
Day 25
The ‘girl dinner’ of copywriting: one headline, no body copy, a price, and somehow it works.
Day 26
A LinkedIn post about what this 30-day challenge taught you — written on day 26, before it’s over, predicting your own growth.
Day 27
Day 28
Rewrite Spotify Wrapped as a passive-aggressive letter from your music taste to your self-image.
Day 29
A fully AI-generated ad that keeps breaking the fourth wall to remind you it was written by AI and ask if you’re okay with that.
Day 30
The final ad: sell this 30-day challenge to the next person. The copy must use everything you learned. No pressure.