A stranger writes to an immigration firm on Instagram. They want to know whether they qualify, what it involves, how long it will take. We draft replies for the firm to review, and this one ran to about 320 words: five facts, all correct, each traced to a source.
The lawyer read it and sent back a different reply. It was about 110 words and no legal content at all. It said three things. This is less difficult than it looks from where you are standing. The law is the easy part, and the administration is what a client pays to have handled. The next step is a paid consultation, and its cost is credited against the service.
That reply was better than ours in every way that mattered, and working out why changed how we write for this firm.
What our 320 words got wrong
Every fact was accurate, so the error was somewhere else. Our reply answered a question the person had typed, and the lawyer’s reply answered the worry behind it.
We gave away the consultation. The firm sells judgment on one person’s file. A reply that lays out the rules in general invites the reader to apply them alone, get them slightly wrong and never call.
We advised someone whose file we had not read. Five correct general facts, sent to a stranger, turn into specific advice in the reader’s head. The lawyer knows how many ways the same rule lands differently on two people, and so kept the law out of the message entirely.
We raised five new questions. Each fact opened another thread. A person who was worried about one thing now had five things to check.
We wrote for a desk. The message is read on a phone, by someone deciding in a few seconds whether this firm is for them. What they want to find out is whether they will be looked after. Three hundred words answer a different question.
Being correct is the minimum. The reply has to work on the person reading it.
The line we now write before the draft
Before any reply is written, we answer three questions in one line. Who is this person? What worries them? What have they already settled?
The last one does most of the work. Someone who has already decided to move does not need to be told why the country is attractive. Someone who has read the rules does not need them summarised. Each thing they have settled is a paragraph we no longer write.
The no is a different piece of writing
The firm cannot take every case. Our first draft of a decline ran to about 150 words in five blocks, with cushioning all around the answer. It was meant kindly, and it did harm.
The final version was three lines.
A long no reads as a negotiation. Every cushion is a door the reader will try. Every explanation is a point to argue with, and the person is left holding a hope the firm cannot meet. A short, clear no respects their time, and they can go and find help elsewhere that afternoon.
The rules we work to now:
- State the rule, and leave the person out of it. The reply describes the requirement. It says nothing about who the reader is, even if they raised it themselves.
- Do not cushion it. One courteous sentence is enough.
- Do not quote odds. No percentage, no “unlikely”. An estimate reads as an opening.
- Answer pushback once, in one line. The rule is restated, and then the conversation is over.
01 / 02
The yes
Length
About 110 words
Legal content
None
Job
Reassure, then move to a paid call
Ends with
The next step and what it costs
02 / 02
The no
Length
Three lines
Legal content
The rule, once
Job
Close the question cleanly
Ends with
Nothing to reply to
| The yes | The no | |
|---|---|---|
| Length | About 110 words | Three lines |
| Legal content | None | The rule, once |
| Job | Reassure, then move to a paid call | Close the question cleanly |
| Ends with | The next step and what it costs | Nothing to reply to |
What changed in our drafts
- Facts stay in the consultation, where the lawyer can apply them to a real file.
- The message carries reassurance, the shape of the service and one next step.
- A no is shorter than a yes, and it describes a rule.
