You tell me what you need, I throw down a number. Then we wrangle.

Once we agree no one’s getting swindled, we lock in a 45-minute kick-off call where I dig into your brand.

By the end, I’ll know your voice, your goals, and probably the drink you’re ordering when you close your next big deal.

You let me hide out for a week. It’s not you, it’s me. Why? Because my muse is a temperamental little minx.

As long as I keep her entertained with strong coffee and the occasional stare into the abyss, she’ll reward me. But interrupt her with endless emails or “just a quick question” client texts, and she’ll throw on her heels and leave.

While you wait with bated breath, I’ll be crafting you copy as irresistible as that late-night text from someone you really shouldn’t answer.

We set up another call. I emerge from my devotional solitude, present you your copy, and we have a good yap about it.

If you’re thinking an in-person performance, sure, I’ll show up, but only if the flight’s a private charter and there’s a martini waiting.

Otherwise, Zoom works just fine, darling.

You huddle up with your merry band of creatives, dreamers, and overthinkers, scribbling down a list of tweaks and “brilliant ideas”.

Barring catastrophic curveballs, alien invasions or unforeseen hangovers, your revised copy will be back in your lovely little hands within three days.