To Sound Human

Maintaining Your Humanity Through Words

    To Sound Human

    To Sound Human

    1024 576 Michael Kraabel

    I woke up this morning asking myself the very important question: how can I write more human?  I’ve written a lot about generative technology and how it’s changing our perception of the value and quality of good copywriting. Most writing these days falls in an unfortunate position of being “okay enough.”

    In certain industries, like marketing, there’s also a strong propensity to speak in empty buzzwords and platitudes.  While it bothered me over the years when companies and brands started to speak this way, it’s now gotten to the point where humans are sounding … how to put this … not very human.

    This presented a pretty interesting creative challenge and thought experiment.  What is the nature of human writing|?  And more importantly, how can we safeguard the human experience in a time of intensifying technology?

    We all know the words.  Picking the right words is the challenge. This thesis is part of my Create Everyday philosophy. Today, I decided to explore why I’m growing so upset over how people write, even the simplest of emails.

    The Hardest Thing in Copywriting is to Sound Human 

    The hardest thing for a copywriter today isn’t coming up with words. It’s sounding like an actual person.

    Brands have spent years training writers to be “professional.” Which usually means stripping out anything that sounds remotely natural. Instead of writing like they talk, they write like they’re filling out a form. Add AI into the mix, and now we’ve got an internet full of copy that’s technically correct but painfully lifeless.

    The result? A wall of noise no one actually wants to read.

    I’ve started to notice this trend a lot more in emails, as well. As more and more people turn to generative AI to craft those perfectly imperfect email messages to you, they’re starting to sound a lot like a whole lot of nothing.  I’m not advocating for it, but I miss the emails that simply said “ok” or gave the thumbs-up emoji.

    Unfortunately, we’re entering a new era of copywriting where people are short on time and resources and have the desire to spend any more time than they need to write stuff down that nobody will likely read.  We don’t read anymore because we’re too impatient.  

    Why Most Copy Sounds Like It Was Written by a Robot

    Somewhere along the way, “professional” became code for stiff, safe, and generic. Brands decided it was better to sound polished than personal. That’s why websites are filled with lines like:

    “We are committed to providing innovative solutions that drive value for our customers.”

    No one talks like this. No one feels anything when they read it. And yet, some version of this sentence is on nearly every corporate website in existence.

    Copy loses its humanity because brands default to:

    Jargon overload:  “Best-in-class, cutting-edge, industry-leading” all mean nothing. Everyone knows they mean nothing. But we all go back to that well as copywriters because we know it plays well with the audience.

    Passive voice: “Our customers are empowered” vs. “We help customers win.” One sounds like an actual person. The other sounds like a meeting that should have been an email.  Granted, I can be guilty of this at times on my own. 

    Fear of personality: The biggest killer of good copy is the belief that it has to sound a certain way to be taken seriously. While stating facts are essential in writing, having personality and perspective is even more important. 

    This may seem controversial, but nobody really enjoys reading Shakespeare, yet he’s wildly acclaimed as one of the best writers ever. It’s the personality of his characters, the way they tell stories and the methods he uses as a writer to allow the audience to use their imagination and to interpret the story through their own lens. Shakespeare wrote with personality. Writing should be fun.  Reading should be an adventure.  It should lead you on a journey where you become part of the story. This is as true for books and plays as it is for movies and marketing copy.  Yes, I said it: marketing copy should be just as entertaining and inspiring as the most epic novel or film.

    Spotting Your Copywriting Crutch

    All writers have something they’ve written that they look back on and cringe with embarrassment. I’ve done it. For me, I’m a better writer than I am a copy editor. The two are very different. I write fast, make mistakes, and generally don’t have the sense of urgency to go back and fix most things that aren’t going to print. Maybe that’s my human copywriting trait. But with the new technology tools available like Grammarly, my writing has gotten so much better, because someone catches my errors and makes very assertive and judgy comments about my stylistic preferences.

    Here are a few of my “please do not do this” rules of copywriting:

    Start every sentence with “We.”
    “We believe…” “We are committed…” “We strive…” Cool. But what’s in it for the reader? It’s not about you. It’s about them. If every sentence starts with your company, you’ve already lost the plot.

    Use buzzwords as a crutch.
    Synergy. Optimization. Human-centric digital transformation. No one talks like this unless they’re trying to confuse investors or win at Scrabble. If your copy needs a jargon translator, rewrite it.

    Say nothing with a lot of words.
    AI loves to fill space. It’ll give you a whole paragraph that sounds impressive but says absolutely nothing. And corporate writers aren’t far behind, with long sentences that loop around to say “we have a product.”

    Avoid opinions like the plague.
    Corporate copy is terrified of being polarizing. So it ends up being bland. But safe writing doesn’t earn attention—it earns indifference. If your brand believes something, say it. If it doesn’t, why should anyone care?

    Think clarity = condescension.
    There’s a difference between writing clearly and talking down to people. AI often defaults to the lowest common denominator, assuming readers need everything spoon-fed. Meanwhile, good human copy respects the reader’s intelligence.

    Kill rhythm and voice with over-editing.
    Too many cooks (or stakeholders) turn even solid writing into Franken-copy. Add a legal note here, a product caveat there, and suddenly your friendly brand voice now sounds like a malfunctioning FAQ page.

    Lean on fake empathy.
    “We understand how hard it is to navigate today’s ever-changing digital landscape…” Oh, do you? Or did a robot write that while drinking battery acid? Real empathy sounds like: “Hiring tools shouldn’t feel like homework.”

    Obsess over grammar at the cost of tone.
    Yes, grammar matters. But if you’re more concerned with whether you can use a sentence fragment than whether your message connects, you’re prioritizing the wrong rules.

    Pretend your reader is a robot, too.
    When every sentence is optimized for SEO, CTA, and UX, it stops being optimized for humans. That’s how you end up with unreadable pages that technically tick all the boxes—and still get ignored.

    Confuse ‘professional’ with ‘boring.’
    Professional doesn’t mean stiff. You can be sharp, credible, and still sound like a person. The best brands pull this off all the time. The worst ones keep hiding behind empty polish.

    How to Relearn How to Write Like a Human

    People who sound like humans are interesting to read (or listen to).  They might even sound a bit controversial at times. But for the most part they sound uniquely human and have a personality. The brands that stand out are the ones who write like people talking to people. It’s not about dumbing things down. It’s about dropping the filler and writing something real.

    I’ve started to break down this “humanity gene” in copywriting to use as my mental checklist as I’m writing. This list will continue to grow, but here are a few markers of being human and writing for humans:

    Write how you talk
    If you wouldn’t say it in conversation, don’t write it. Read it out loud. If it sounds weird, rewrite it.

    Be specific
    Vague copy is forgettable. Instead of “We create innovative marketing solutions,” try “We help brands stop sounding boring.” One says something. The other says nothing.

    Lose the fluff
    Cut every word that doesn’t need to be there. “We are dedicated to helping businesses achieve success through innovative strategies” becomes “We help businesses grow.” Get to the point. I’ve always wanted the first slide in my pitch deck to be: “Hire me.  I will make you money.”  

    Have a point of view
    Copy that tries to appeal to everyone appeals to no one. Take a stance. Be interesting. Give people something to react to.

    Let’s remind ourselves that most AI platforms were trained on the content they scraped from our websites. It’s our fault they all sound the same. Now, it’s our job to take it back before it goes any further.

    The Recipe for Sound More Human

    Most marketers think “sounding human” means sprinkling in contractions or tossing a joke into the third paragraph. But that’s surface-level stuff. The real fix is deeper and it starts with unlearning what brand writing has trained us to do.

    Here’s how to actually sound human in your writing, especially when the robots are breathing down your neck:

    Stop writing like you’re applying for approval. If every sentence you write is designed to pass through legal, brand, and seven stakeholder reviews without raising an eyebrow, your copy is already dead. You’re not here to offend, but you are here to be clear. And clarity requires guts. Say what you mean, then say it faster.

    Use your internal monologue. That thing you say in your head when you read a boring headline? Use that voice. The one that says, “No one talks like this,” or “I’d never send this to a friend.” That voice is honest. That’s the voice people want to hear.

    Cut the “corporate poetry.” No more “empowering scalable ecosystems” or “unlocking future-forward solutions.” You’re not writing a TED Talk for a blockchain startup. Say what your product does. Why it matters. Who it helps. In that order.

    Earn your adjectives. Don’t say you’re “authentic” or “bold.” Be those things. Bold is saying, “Most software is a pain to use. Ours isn’t.” Authentic is showing up without the copy-paste tone of every other brand in your space.

    Find the friction. Human conversations have tension, personality, and punch. Your copy should, too. Find the moment where someone might push back and meet them there. That’s how you build trust. Not with fluff. With friction.

    Use AI as a rough draft, not a final voice. AI can help you get started, but if you hit publish without rewriting, you’re just adding to the sludge. Think of AI as your intern who talks like a Hallmark card, you still need to do the real writing.

    The Machines Have Won.

    Let’s not kid ourselves: AI is faster, cheaper, and dangerously close to good enough. It can generate thousands of words in the time it takes me to sip my coffee. It can mimic tone, structure, even personality. And for most brands, that’s all they need. Just “okay enough” to fill the content calendar and keep the algorithms happy.

    But here’s the thing: AI doesn’t care. It doesn’t bleed into the page. It doesn’t agonize over the perfect phrasing. It doesn’t know the satisfaction of writing a sentence so sharp it cuts. It stacks words in a way that makes sense, but it will never make them matter.

    That’s on us.

    If we let AI set the tone, the future of writing is a wasteland of predictable, pattern-matching mush. Empty words arranged in polished nothingness. But writing, real writing, is about more than structure. It’s about passion. It’s about seeing the world, feeling something, and finding the exact right way to say it so someone else feels it, too.

    Computers can write in bits and bytes.

    We write in story arcs.

    We write with humor, heart, and the raw edges that make words human. We write to connect, to argue, to inspire. We write because we have to, not because a prompt told us to.

    And as long as we hold onto that—our messy, imperfect, irreplaceable voice—the machines can have their spreadsheets of auto-generated copy.

    We’ll still have soul.

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    kraabel

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