Words that make sense. Systems that make them go further.

Most businesses don't have a marketing problem. They have a translation problem.

The business makes perfect sense to the person who built it. The value is obvious. The founder knows exactly why someone should buy. Then it becomes a website, an email, a pitch deck — and somewhere along the way, the point gets lost. That's where I come in.

The words matter. What happens after them matters too.

Good copy isn't decoration. It's what makes the right person stop, understand, believe, and take the next step. So I work on the words; positioning, websites, landing pages, email, brand voice. But I don't think of them in isolation.

Who sees them? How do they get there? What happens if they don't reply? How do you follow up without sounding like a robot? How much of this can happen without someone on your team manually pushing it along every day?

That's where the systems side comes in. I build practical AI and automation around the marketing and sales process; research, prospecting, personalised outreach, follow-up, and the feedback loops that make the whole thing improve over time. The technology is useful. But it's not the point. The point is what it allows good thinking and good words to do at scale.

How I got here

LinkedIn calls it a career break. It wasn't. LinkedIn doesn't have a section for ‘I believed in myself and decided to take a chance’ — so I'll fill in the blank here instead.

I studied English Literature at Leeds. For the first two years I was better at getting on Megabuses to Bath than getting to seminars. Essays written at the last minute, sometimes submitted late, priorities clearly elsewhere. Third year was different. I actually read the books, turned up, and discovered I quite liked the subject I'd spent two years avoiding. I even impressed a longstanding Shakespeare professor with some of my insights. Who would have thought. Firsts in every module except one poetry dissertation; my tutor wrote poetry about lactation, and I figured I'd written enough conventional essays by that point. I should have realised my collection on Daoism and the concept of returning home wasn't quite feminist enough. I came out with a 2:1.

After graduating I took a spontaneous trip from Eindhoven that ended up in Istanbul. Then a role with Crystal Ski — a TUI brand — based in Courchevel for the winter season. Project management, website redesign, sales. Up at 4am on weekends to welcome guests and convert the ones who hadn't pre-bought. The first company I ever did copywriting for; going through their new app and editing anything that needed care. I loved it. Working with words surrounded by mountains, knowing I could strap my snowboard on and be out there in under half an hour.

After that; a sales job in London, climbing a ladder in an office environment I found genuinely unbearable, commercial videography sets, learning to make cocktails. There was always something nagging. Under-fulfilled, under-appreciated, certain there was a different way to do this. I wanted to freelance. I wanted to use my words.

So I left.

Somewhere on a night bus from Bulgaria to Serbia, reading Ogilvy on Advertising, he described an email sequence as a sales letter turned on its side; same architecture, same psychology, just delivered in stages. I sat with that idea for a long time in the dark.

Twelve months of travel followed; Nepal, India, Bali. Wrote at 4am next to heaters in Kathmandu. Ate lunch with monks. Watched monkeys cross rooftops. In Bali; mornings on a motorbike down to the beach, a coffee from 7/11 and some oats looking out at the ocean while the sky came up. Evenings in the water surfing. It sounds like the life. Parts of it were. It was also uncertain, sometimes lonely, and genuinely the most productive period I've had.

The first client came from a Google review.

I wrote a Google review for a spa in Canggu called Goldust. Not for work; just because the place deserved it and I wanted to write something that actually captured it. The owner read it and reached out. That was the voice she'd been trying to find for three years. I rewrote their entire site and treatment menu; their words: “Fynn is a very talented writer who got to grips with exactly what we needed.” The proof of concept came from a review nobody asked me to write.

Then the systems caught up.

Now I'm building the actual infrastructure I was reading about on that bus. Automated sequences, open-source pipelines, outreach systems that don't depend on closed platforms. The idea that clicked in the dark between Bulgaria and Serbia is running 24 hours a day. That feels like something.

On AI; the honest version

I use it every day. I build n8n workflows, run automated prospecting pipelines, integrate Claude into outreach systems that generate personalised emails at scale. But I'm not particularly interested in AI for the sake of saying I use AI.

AI can generate a thousand words. It can't decide which hundred matter.

It can find a thousand prospects. It can't understand why one of them is worth your time.

It can automate a follow-up. It can't make a bad message good.

That's still the interesting part. The voice stays human. The judgement stays human. The machine handles the repetition. That's not the future of this work; it's already the useful part of the present.

If you'd like to see how the system behind this site actually works, I wrote the full story here.

What I care about

Businesses with something real behind them. Founders who know their product is good but can't quite get the outside world to see it. Teams spending too much time doing things that should have been automated. Companies spending money on marketing that doesn't compound.

Sometimes the problem is the words. Sometimes it's what happens after the words. Usually it's some combination of the two. That's the work I find interesting; making the business easier to understand, easier to choose, and easier to grow.

Outside the work

I run marathons. I make music; trap, mostly, in FL Studio, some of it on SoundCloud. I read constantly; philosophy, fiction, anything that makes me think differently. I grew up feeling slightly misplaced in a world of predefined timelines, and I've stopped pretending that's a problem to solve. It's just how it is. You find belonging in the work and the people, not the path.