The Cuisinart That Copywriting Has Been Thrown Into

The cuisinart that copywriting has been thrown into while it’s running, called AI, isn’t the first total transformation that’s happened to the world of creative output.

If you go back far enough, creativity has always gone through radical shifts driven by technology. We started by scratching lines in cave walls. Then we were tracing hands. Eventually, we figured out how to make marks with meaning—symbols, letters, numbers. And one day, someone figured out how to print those letters with movable type. Fast forward, and the ability to put image and language on flexible, portable paper changed everything again.

The last time I saw a shift this big, it was in the late 1980s and early 90s. But it wasn’t on the words side. It was on the pictures side.

Imagine this: You were going to create a print ad to be inserted in a magazine or a direct mail piece. Once the copy was written, the art director would take over (a simplification), and, using magic markers, would draw a “comp”—short for comprehensive art. That’d be a mockup so clients could see what it was going to look like when done.

After the clients said okay, you’d order typesetting. It’d come in the next morning. Sheets of heavy glossy paper with the characters in blocks. A mechanical artist, using an X-acto knife, would cut the blocks apart and paste them down on a piece of heavy cardboard with rubber cement or melted wax. Some used spray adhesive (ugh!). Photos would be pasted down too, along with registration marks. All that would be sent to a printer or to the magazine.

It was labor-intensive. It was tactile. It required specialized tools and skills. And then—in a span of what felt like five minutes—it was gone.

Pagemaker showed up. Then QuarkXPress. And then Adobe InDesign and Illustrator and Photoshop. The whole production process shifted to screens. Suddenly, everything was done in pixels and vectors. And it had profound effects on people’s lives.

There were two classes of mechanical artist at the time: the ones who made the leap, and the ones who didn’t. In my experience, about 20% made it. Everybody else found themselves edged out. Some went into adjacent trades—photography, design. But many went elsewhere entirely: home health aides, EMTs, restaurant workers. There was no middle ground.

The changeover wasn’t easy. It took classes, late nights, practice. You worked for less—or no money—until your skills caught up. But there was no going back. That old world of wax and X-acto knives was never coming back.

Now we’re here again. But this time, it’s words.

AI—large language models, tools like ChatGPT, Claude, and others—have changed the field of copywriting forever. But unlike the shift to the Mac and Adobe suite, this one is far more accessible.

You don’t have to buy $2,000 worth of software and hardware. You don’t have to enroll in a class. You don’t even have to wait for your next freelance check to clear so you can afford a new tool. This time, the tools are cheap. Some are free. And they work right now.

If you’re a copywriter, you don’t have to learn how to code, engineer prompts, or become some kind of AI wizard. You just have to get in there and start talking. If you’re stuck, you can ask the tool itself how to get unstuck. The tool is the tutor.

But don’t mistake ease of entry for lack of urgency.

Because just like Facebook ads in 2011 were underpriced—causing a gold rush for DTC brands—AI tools right now are underpriced for what they let you do. That won’t last. Once enough people are hooked, pricing models will change. The best features will go behind paywalls. New functionality will be enterprise-first. And the wide open field you have now will start to narrow.

What’s likely to happen?

Consumer tiers will get tighter. Usage caps. Reduced quality on base plans. Pay-as-you-go pricing for power users. The best features will land in the enterprise plans first. API pricing will quietly rise. And the tools that feel like a gift now? They’ll start to feel like rent.

Here’s the invitation:

If you’re a writer who wants to stay relevant, now is the time. Not next quarter. Not after you finish that client job. Now.

Start asking AI to help you solve creative problems. Ask it to rewrite, refine, challenge, push. Learn how to work with it like you would a junior partner, a fast researcher, or a sounding board. Practice. Because in another few years, this will just be “how copywriting is done.” And those who didn’t jump in early will be playing catch-up—if they’re lucky.

The last revolution turned cutters and pasters into Mac operators. This one will turn solo writers into team players—working alongside the fastest, cheapest creative partner they’ll ever have.

So how do you start?

First, start with style. You can give your AI the style of a copywriter you like—Ogilvy, Bencivenga, Schwartz. If you like ads from a brand or campaign, upload a few and ask the AI to reverse-engineer the style. Have it give you a guide. It will.

Second, use a couple AIs. Claude is a first-draft specialist. It’s open, warm, and associative. ChatGPT is sharper. Better at refining and making a draft clean, crisp, and clear. Use both. One to build. One to polish. And don't stop there. There are lots to try and experiment with. 

Third, never start without a draft and a style. That’s how momentum begins.

Fourth, always ask for feedback. Ask the AI: “What’s the objective?” “How does this copy serve it?” “How might this be perceived?” Treat the AI like the writing partner you've always wanted, whatever that happens to be. 

This is how you stay in the game.

Get started while it’s cheap. Because it won’t stay that way. And the copywriters who stay in the game won't be the ones with the great vocabularies. They'll be the ones with the best workflows and methods. 

And if you need help getting going, well... you can ask me. Or the machine.