London Vision Clinic brochure
Last year , thanks to a referral from Hat-trick, I started working with the London Vision Clinic, the UK's leading centre for laser eye surgery, and one of the best in the world.

Hat-trick had developed this elegant new identity for the Clinic (above), and were embarking on a new brochure, which I was invited to write. It was the beginning of quite a journey, not only in terms of the project but also for me personally.
At my first meeting with Dan Reinstein, world-renowned surgeon and founder of the Clinic, he took one look at my glasses and said that by the end of this project they'd be gone. The case for laser eye surgery, he felt, was that compelling. Certainly his own confidence and credentials spoke volumes.
Still, I'd always resisted the idea, for the same reason as most people: fear. My idea of laser surgery was something like this:

(Image borrowed from Guardian Unlimited)
It didn't take long for Professor Reinstein to overturn this silly notion, by deploying those most devastating of weapons: facts. And this was to become the theme of the brochure: we'd use the truth about laser eye surgery to educate and reassure people; and we'd use the facts of the Clinic's extraordinary record to show that it is truly second to none.
Then things went one step further. Perhaps, my client said, it would help if I was to undergo the surgery myself? There was no doubt that it would, of course. So, not without a little gulp of trepidation, I said yes.
I've been very short-sighted since I was about 11. That's 20 years ago now. Or, if I'm honest, 27. I've worn glasses all that time, apart from brief flirtations with contacts that never really worked out. To read a book unaided, I had to hold it about three or four inches from my nose.
Now, I have a level of vision I didn't even know existed before I started this brochure. My vision is 20/12: two levels better than 20/20.
And the surgery? Less than 15 minutes of pain-free lying down. There were some flashing lights, some gentle pressure, a little whizzy noise and it was done. I sat up and, even though the corneal swelling produces a sort of pale mist across the vision, I could see. I could read the clock on the wall which, a quarter of an hour earlier, I could just about identify as a clock from its foggy shapes.
There's no doubt this experience focused my writing as well as my eyes. I could write not only from what I'd heard and read, but from what I'd experienced. And so much of that experience came down to trust.

An early page from the brochure
The London Vision Clinic's testing and screening process is phenomenally rigorous - far more so than anywhere else. So you know by the time of your surgery, these people know your eyes in incredibly fine detail. And the attitude is open, honest and inclusive. You always feel in control and able to ask questions.
Discovering all that as a patient, and not just from briefing meetings, was invaluable. I became my own audience - something you always try to do as a copywriter, but which is often about an exercise in empathy and imagination.
So did it work? You be the judge. You can download a PDF of the full brochure (it's 4MB) by clicking here.
(I've now completed copywriting on the Clinic's new website, too. It's currently being built, and I'll let you know when it's live.)
Labels: brochure, copywriting, london vision clinic











