IF YOU’VE been in the market for a home you’ve probably had the misfortune of experiencing my loathsome work as a real estate copywriter.

Yes, I am the person who writes things like: “Immaculately renovated two bedroom home with seamless open flow to sun-drenched north-facing deck and garden.”

At this point you are probably appalled to discover that they actually employ “professional” writers to spit out that guff. But they do.

We are journalists, authors, artists and most of us are hating every moment.

WHY THE WRITING IS SO TERRIBLE

The copy is universally idiotic and it’s the antithesis of what written communication should be. It’s designed to bamboozle you with shiny nuff-nuff words and illegal amounts of superlatives.

There is a reason it’s so bad and the reason is simple: The client. And by “client”, I don’t mean the vendor, I’m talking about the real estate agent.

Real estate agents want sentences packed with too many adjectives and they want us to repeat the same idea over and over again, in subtly different ways. And they want it all shoehorned in to the opening paragraph.

They call this ingenious writing method “the hard sell.”

If you don’t give them “the hard sell”, they send your copy back with helpful feedback like this:

It’s just not exciting enough

It’s a bit boring

You’re not selling it

Can you talk more about the garden? (For the record the “garden” was a square patch of dirt and I thought the less said the better)

I need your best, times 65 per cent (I think he meant he wanted my best PLUS 65 per cent but clearly maths was not his strong suit.)

As a result I have perfected the dark art of real estate obfuscation.

REAL ESTATE AGENTS OUTSOURCE THEIR LYING TO ME

Don’t shoot the messenger because, as I found out early on, if I don’t give them what they want, I simply won’t get booked.

I have been told to describe a space beneath a stair as a large cupboard and a passageway that happened to have a built-in robes along one wall, as the “third bedroom.”

I have been told to describe a property’s distance from shops as, “mere footsteps” instead of being too specific (try 200m, that’s about 500 footsteps). I’ve also been told to mention in the copy that the plumbing for a potential second bathroom was already “in the walls.” (To be clear, it was not.)

MISLEADING WORDS AND PHRASES AND WHAT THEY REALLY MEAN

• French provincial-inspired kitchen: not a slick Caesarstone kitchen but a tired old folksy one with timber bench tops.

• Tightly-held: A bunch of old people live here and they refuse to move on but as luck would have it, one of them just died.

• Townhome: Spoiler alert, it’s a townhouse.

• Villa: A mean boxlike project home on a subdivided block with four other ‘villas’ where the back neighbour is where the backyard used to be.

• Loggia: A bog standard covered terrace, FYI a loggia is actually a colonnaded walkway.

• Banquette: A bench with throw cushions scattered on it.

• Daybed: A slightly bigger bench with cushions that you can lie on.

• Bespoke built-ins: Not the Ikea kind, some guy came to the house and made them from scratch.

• Waterfall benchtops: The stone bit goes down the side as well as across the top.

• Soaring cathedral ceilings: A ceiling that is built along the roofline and so has no roof space above it hence, therefore ergo, this room will be a FURNACE in summer.

• Juliet balcony: A tiny useless balcony that no one ever uses.

• Walk-through-robe: It’s not so much a walk-in wardrobe as a passage way with hangers in it that leads to the ensuite

• Open plan living areas: The rear of the house was too small for living and dining areas so they knocked out a wall and created one cavernous space to house everything including the kitchen.

• Study or nursery: A teeny tiny room with no window that legally we can’t list as a bedroom.

• Courtgarden: A courtyard with pot plants in it.

• Open plan ensuite: Trust me, ain’t nobody wants one of these in their bedroom, it’s a bathroom that is part of your bedroom WITH NO WALLS BETWEEN YOU AND YOUR HUSBAND’S MORNING BOG SESSION!

• Low maintenance garden: It’s been concreted from arse to elbow.

• Covered outdoor entertaining area: The bit outside the kitchen door where there’s a generous roof overhang.

• Potentially a level-grassed yard: A sloped square patch of dirt where the garden will be if you spend about $10,000 on landscaping.

• Charmingly original worker’s cottage: It’s a tiny row house that has not been updated since 1923.

SO WHY DO I DO IT?

It’s money for jam. Although not so long ago, I received an email that made me realise I may have hit my tolerance limit.

Hi Penny,

Pam from McBarry & Partners* here, I work with Barry*

The copy writing (sic) has been great as usual, and thank you. Barry has just asked if we could avoid using the words spacious and refurbished. Generous and renovated work, or anything else you can think of.

Let me know if you have any questions.

Warm Regards

Pam

At first glance, it seems innocent enough. The tone is friendly and I like the way she started off by “stroking” my ego, to prepare me for the ridiculous request that follows.

So hats off to Pam for her people skills.

But can I avoid using the words “spacious” and “refurbished”? And by “avoid,” she meant, don’t use them ever ... Again ...

In any bit of copy.

Ever.

(Because as requested, I called her to “let her know” that I had some questions and she clarified it for me.)

My point (and I do have one) is this:

I have just taken you through the ridiculous words I have used in real estate copy. I have made words up, I have used faux Frenglish words, I have completely overdone the superlatives to an embarrassing degree on a regular basis.

I have joined two words together to create new compound words that do not (and should not) exist.

And THESE are the words that I am no longer allowed to use?

Spacious

Refurbished

I think I have just hit my limit.

Consider this the detonator that will blow the bridge.

*not the real name of the agency or agent