Start with the product, not the prompt

The biggest mistake I see is opening the AI tool before opening the box. If you don’t know what the product feels like, weighs, or does differently, the AI doesn’t either — it just guesses, politely, in fluent sentences.

Before I write a single prompt, I spend five minutes with the product itself. What does it feel like in the hand? What surprised me? What would I tell a friend about it? I jot down three things: one fact (materials, size, specs), one feeling (sturdy, light, soft), and one use (who reaches for it, and when). That little list is the whole brief. Without it, every description the AI writes will be interchangeable with a competitor’s — because it is, literally, built from the same generic ingredients.

Give the AI the details it can’t invent

An AI tool writing about a ceramic mug it has never seen will tell you it’s “crafted to perfection” and “perfect for any occasion.” Both sentences are true of everything and useful for nothing. The fix isn’t a cleverer prompt — it’s better raw material.

Feed it the specifics: “Hand-thrown stoneware mug, 350 ml, matte sage glaze, weighs 380 g, dishwasher safe, made in small batches of 40.” Then ask for a description, not a slogan. The difference is immediate. Specifics are the one thing the model can’t hallucinate convincingly, and they’re also the one thing shoppers actually read. A buyer choosing between two mugs cares about the 380 grams and the matte glaze. They do not care that it is “perfect for any occasion.” Everything is perfect for any occasion. Nothing is.

Write for the person holding the product, not the search engine

Yes, keywords matter — I’ll get to them. But a description that reads like it was written for a search crawler will not sell anything, because people don’t buy from crawlers.

I picture one specific buyer. For a hiking backpack, that’s not “outdoor enthusiasts” — it’s a person packing for a three-day trail who is worried about whether the thing will dig into their shoulders by hour four. So the description answers that worry: padded straps, weight distribution, a hip belt that actually sits on the hips. Features become answers. “Waterproof 20L main compartment” becomes “your spare shirt stays dry when the rain starts on day two.”

That shift — from features to the moment the buyer cares about — is the whole job of a product description. AI can list the features. Only you know which moment matters.

Keep the structure boring and the sentences yours

Here’s the structure I use for almost every product description, and I don’t apologise for how plain it is:

• One opening line that says what it is and who it’s for.
• Two or three short paragraphs or bullets on what it does and why that matters.
• The practical facts: size, materials, care, what’s in the box.
• One line on who should skip it (yes, really — I’ll explain).

That structure is boring on purpose. Shoppers scan. They want the answer fast, and a predictable layout lets them find it. The sentences inside the structure, though, are where your voice lives. Short ones. A fragment for emphasis. A comparison only you’d make — “lighter than my phone, tougher than my old one.” The AI gives you the skeleton; you put the face on it.

Let it say no sometimes

This is the advice that surprises people: the best product descriptions tell some buyers not to buy.

“This mug holds 350 ml — if you want a big morning coffee, this isn’t it.” “These headphones are wired. If you need wireless, look at our other model.”

Why would you write that? Because trust sells more than hype. A shopper who reads an honest limitation believes the rest of the description too. A shopper who reads nothing but superlatives believes none of it. And the buyer you turn away politely was going to return the product anyway — and a return costs far more than a lost click.

AI will never write this line on its own. It is trained to be positive about everything. You have to add it, every time.

Edit like a customer, not a copywriter

When the draft is done, I read it as if I’m about to spend my own money on it. Three questions:

• Does it answer what I’d ask before buying? (Size? Material? What happens if it breaks?)
• Is there a single sentence I couldn’t find on a competitor’s page?
• Would I feel misled if the product arrived and matched this description exactly?

If the answer to the second question is no, the description isn’t finished — it’s a template with the product name swapped in. Add one specific detail: the weight, the sound it makes, the way the zipper catches. One detail is usually enough to make the whole thing feel real.

And cut the adjectives. AI descriptions drown in them — premium, exceptional, unparalleled, ultimate. Pick the one adjective that actually describes the product and delete the rest. “Heavy-duty canvas” tells me something. “Premium exceptional unparalleled canvas” tells me the writer ran out of things to say.

Handle keywords last, not first

SEO matters for product pages — a description nobody finds can’t sell. But keywords go in last, after the description is already good.

I keep a short list of the phrases real buyers type — “leather wallet RFID,” “cotton tote bag large,” “stainless steel water bottle 1 litre” — and work one or two into the copy where they fit naturally, usually in the opening line and the specs. If a phrase doesn’t fit, I don’t force it. A description stuffed with “best leather wallet for men RFID blocking slim” reads like spam, and shoppers can smell spam in half a second.

Google rewards pages that answer the query. A clear, specific description that mentions the real terms buyers use will rank better than a keyword-stuffed paragraph that says nothing. Write for the buyer first; the search engine will follow.

The honest test

Here’s how I check a finished product description: I read it out loud, then ask whether I’d say any of it to a friend holding the product in a shop.

“Hand-thrown, 350 ml, matte glaze, weighs about as much as a paperback.” I’d say that. “Crafted to perfection for any occasion”? I would never say that to anyone, and neither would you. If you wouldn’t say it in a shop, don’t publish it on a product page.

Product descriptions are the smallest writing job on a website and one of the most honest. There’s nowhere to hide — the buyer either believes you or they don’t. AI can write the first version in seconds. Your job is the second version: the specifics, the honest limitation, the sentence only someone who held the product would write. That’s what turns a listing into a reason to buy.