Backstory
Ten years ago, you sold all your belongings and took a one-way ticket to Tokyo. You backpacked across Asia, taught English to survive, and unlocked a life of freedom. After a few years of teaching English, you realized that Asia treats English teachers like personal little pets. You were underpaid, used for marketing, and never got paid commission. "There has to be a better way," you think to yourself.
One evening after a bender at an izakaya, you meet an old Japanese man. "Oi, gaijin! Ippai, dō da?" he says. You bond over a bottle of sake, then another. By sunrise, you two become the best of friends. He tells you his name is Shigesato Itoi, Japan's #1 copywriter, and he shows you his old typewriter with the phrase "Do or die" etched on the side. Before you part ways, he hands you his typewriter and says: "Dōzo, gaijin-kun. Jā, ganbare yo! FIGHT-O!!!"
You wake up the next morning with a pounding hangover and a typewriter sitting on the floor. That's it! This is the career you've been searching for! You Google "how to become a copywriter," and everyone tells you to read The Boron Letters by Gary Halbert. You also start brainwashing yourself by listening to The Strangest Secret by Earl Nightingale every morning over breakfast. In the evenings, you sit in front of your new, used typewriter to hone your craft, while binging all seven seasons of Mad Men on repeat in the background.
Welcome to the world of freelance copywriting.
It was a tough first year. Your first gig paid $12 USD to write a 1,000-word article, but you knew the sky was the limit. Week after week, you pitched and closed bigger and bigger deals. By the time COVID struck and companies were scrambling to go remote, you filled those gaps. Clients were coming to you, seeking your expertise to improve their positioning, messaging, and sales funnels. For the first time in your life, you were successful, earning five figures per month, and, finally, making Mom proud.
Now it's the year 2027.
And copywriting is dead.
Your clients dropped you and replaced the writing they used to pay you $1,000s a month for with AI slop. You try reaching out to some of the agencies that used to hire you, but they now have a tight team of two to five AI specialists who produce 10X the work at a fraction of the cost.
You haven't had a paid gig in months, and you're running out of savings. As a last-ditch effort, you buy a one-way ticket back to Toronto.
With just a typewriter, a bucket, and your brains, you've now gotta fight for survival on the streets of Toronto.
Think you've got what it takes to do...
...or die.