Why we should let our copywriting rest

THE SHORT ONE 

One of my worst ever bits of work

Well, this next bit might surprise you.
It's just as important to let your writing rest too.

Last week I submitted to LinkedIn an article about the relationship between website design and web copy.
You'll find it here.
Take a quick look. You know you want to!

I closed with -

"Shall we have a conversation about how to integrate content into your website's design?"

Thank goodness I let my first draft 'rest' before going back to review my effort.
I was horrified that I'd written in such a stuffy, unengaging way.

Here's what I replaced it with -

"Fancy a chat about your website words?"

See what I mean?
A lifetime of working with words has taught me that the longer I leave my copy before returning for the final check-over, the more likely I am to see what I've got wrong.

THE LONG ONE

Why your writing will taste better after resting

If you’re a fellow carnivore, even a reluctant one, you might enjoy the occasional Sunday roast. Which meat-eaters amongst us don’t slaver at the sight and smell of a plump, golden, crisp-skinned chicken, basted in buttery juices and surrounded by crunchy spuds, carrots, and greens?

You know the importance of letting that centrepiece of your dinner rest before serving. You don’t carve it straight away. You wait. You leave it for 15 minutes to settle, relax, and soften. You give the fibres time to calm and let the juices even out. That short pause turns a “good roast” into a “perfect roast”.

Well, here’s something that surprises some — your writing needs that same resting time.

You’ll write better, clearer, more human copy when you stop after the first draft and walk away from it for a bit.

Let me tell you how I learned this the hard way.

The embarrassing first draft I nearly published

Last week I wrote a LinkedIn article about the overlap between website design and website copy. When I finished the draft, I felt pleased enough and I was tempted to post it there and then.

But something stopped me.
I let it rest.

When I came back to it later, I was horrified.

I’d closed with this:

“Shall we have a conversation about how to integrate content into your website’s design?”

I sounded like a corporate brochure from 1996. I could almost smell the stale coffee off it. It didn’t sound like someone talking to another human — it sounded like someone giving a speech to a filing cabinet.

So I changed it.

I replaced that line with:

“Fancy a chat about your website words?”

Suddenly it felt warm. Natural. Human. More “talking over a pint” than “announcing a policy decision”.

That small adjustment changed the tone of the entire piece.

And I would never have spotted it if I’d published the first draft straight away.

The science of resting your writing

When you write something, your brain holds the meaning internally. You know what you meant. You see the intention behind your words. Your mind fills in the gaps and auto-corrects every awkward phrase.

But when you step away — for an hour, a day, a weekend — that mental “autofill” fades. You return with fresh eyes. You see what’s actually on the page, not what you thought was on the page.

You spot clumsy wording. You hear wooden phrases. You see repetition. You feel changes in tone. You notice where your attention dips.

And crucially — you find the flaws you were blind to earlier.

Pausing helps you notice:

• when you sound dull
• when you sound too formal
• when you drift into waffle
• when your rhythm goes flat
• when sentences sprawl
• when you slip into business-speak
• when you sound like a robot
• when your phrasing hides meaning instead of revealing it

That pause is the best editing tool you own — and it costs nothing.

How long should you rest your writing?

There’s no single rule, but here’s a simple guide to help you:

• For short posts or emails — rest for at least 30 minutes
• For a LinkedIn article — rest for a few hours or overnight
• For a blog — rest for 1–2 days
• For long-form or sales pages — rest for a week if you can

And here’s the key — when you come back, don’t just read it. Experience it as a reader.

Read it aloud. Hear the rhythm. Hear the tone.
If your brain says “this sounds clunky”, it is clunky.
If you cringe even slightly at a phrase — cut it.

Your future readers thank you silently every time you delete a line that makes you wince.

How resting makes your writing more human

Think about the difference between:

“I would be delighted to discuss this further at your convenience.”

and

“Want to talk this through?”

The first feels like it escaped from a formal letter to the Editor of The Times.
The second sounds like you’re talking to someone in real life.

When you come back to your own writing after a rest, you notice when you’ve fallen back into the stiff, formal voice you were trained to use in school, university, or corporate jobs.

You notice when you’ve written:

- “with regard to” instead of “about”
- “utilise” instead of “use”
- “further information can be obtained” instead of “you’ll find more info here”
- “one must consider” instead of “you might think about”
- You start replacing rigidity with warmth.
- You start swapping stiffness for flow.
- You start talking with your reader, not at them.

Why you don’t catch mistakes straight away

When you’ve just finished writing something, your brain is still in “construction mode”. It’s filling in meaning. It’s assuming intention. You’re still close to the ideas you’re trying to convey.

When you rest your writing, your mental distance widens. You become a fresh reader — not the creator.

Imagine proofreading your own work the same day you wrote it. You miss obvious things because your brain knows what you meant.

Imagine proofreading someone else’s work — you spot errors immediately.

But here’s the trick — if you rest your writing, you temporarily become “someone else” reading it.

That’s when the magic happens.

Practical steps to rest and review your writing

You might find this helpful — a short process you will follow every time.

1. Write freely

Get the idea out.
Don’t edit yet.

2. Stop

Walk away — even just for half an hour.

3. Return and read aloud

Not in your head — aloud.
Your ear catches what your eye misses.

4. Look for trip-points

Notice where you stumble or pause.
That’s a sign your wording needs tightening.

5. Ask: would I speak like this?

If not — rewrite it until it sounds natural.

6. Cut aggressively

Delete the fluff. Shorten the wind.
Be ruthless — your readers will thank you.

7. Rest again for your final polish

A second cooling period works wonders.

Your reader is busier than you think

You’re not writing to someone sitting in a leather armchair, swirling whisky, giving your words their full attention.

You’re writing to someone who’s:

• deleting spam
• scanning email
• juggling deadlines
• skimming LinkedIn
• half-reading while half-thinking.
  
  They don’t read every word you write
  — they glance
  — they bounce
  — they skim
  — they decide

Your job is not to impress them — your job is to keep them reading.

Resting your writing helps you spot anything that might lose them.

The surprising effect of time on tone

You know how you will send an annoyed text… and instantly regret the wording?
Or write an email too quickly… and realise later it sounded harsher than you meant?

When you let your draft rest, your emotional temperature cools.
You choose calmer words.
You soften edges.
You adjust tone with intention.

Instead of sounding sharp, or rushed, or stressed — you sound thoughtful, relaxed, confident.

People respond to that.

Real examples of “before and after” resting

Here are a few real-world transformations that appear after a rest period.

Before:
“We are proud to announce the launch of our innovative and forward-thinking new service.”

After resting:
“We’re excited to share something new with you.”

—

Before:
“Our experienced team will provide comprehensive guidance.”

After resting:
“You’ll get clear, straight advice from people who know what they’re doing.”

—

Before:
“This solution offers unparalleled scalability and robust performance metrics.”

After resting:
“This will work even when you grow and demand more from it.”

Resting stops you sounding like everyone else

Quick exercise.

Go through LinkedIn and count how many posts say:

“I’m thrilled to share…”
“I’m excited to announce…”
“I had the pleasure of…”
“We pride ourselves on…”

These phrases have become background noise.

Resting your writing helps you hear when your own words drift into cliché.

You start noticing repetition.

And instead of:

“We pride ourselves on delivering excellent service.”

You might end up with:

“You’ll never be left waiting or wondering — we talk to you.”

That doesn’t sound like everyone else.
That sounds like you.

Writers panic when they let a draft sit

Some people resist resting their writing because they feel pressure to “get it out” quickly.

They feel:

- urgency
- impatience
- the itch to publish
- the fear of losing momentum
- the desire to stay visible
- the worry that someone else will post first
- But the truth is simple — speed might gain reach, but quality builds reputation.

You want people to think:

“I always enjoy their writing.”

Not:

“They post a lot.”

You write for clarity — not ego

Many people write in a way that makes them look clever.
But readers don’t want clever — they want clear.

Resting gives you a chance to ask:

- does this help?
- does this inform?
- does this serve the reader?
- does this reduce friction?
- does this earn attention?

Clarity exists for their benefit — not yours.

Editing is not fixing — it’s refining

Resting your writing doesn’t just reveal errors — it reveals opportunity.

When you return to a rested draft, you might find:

• a sharper metaphor
• a clearer sentence
• a more engaging opening
• a cleaner CTA
• a punchier headline
• a gentle joke that wasn’t visible before
• a smoother arc of thought

This is where your writing goes from “fine” to “strong”.

The roast dinner comes back

Think again of that chicken resting on the counter.

You don’t rush it.
You don’t carve it the second it leaves the oven.
You trust the process.

Because you know that resting transforms texture into tenderness.

And writing is the same.

When you let your words sit, your meaning settles.
Your message softens.
Your tone deepens.
Your clarity rises.

Your final piece becomes more satisfying to consume.

Try it today

Next time you write:

- a blog
- an email
- a LinkedIn post
- a proposal
- a pitch
- a page of your website

Don’t hit publish straight away.

Write it.
Let it sit.
Come back.
Review.
Refine.

You’ll surprise yourself with how much better your writing sounds after it has rested.

Final thought

A lifetime of working with words has taught me that the longer I leave my copy before returning for the final check-over, the more likely I am to see what I’ve done wrong — and what I can make better.

If you try this with your own writing — even just for a week — you’ll never go back to instant-publish mode again.

Your roast — and your writing — both become richer when rested.