The Greedy Wordsmith
Claire Davies Greedy Wordsmith Food Writer Bag
Claire Davies Consulting Narrative Strategy

I provide copywriting services, consultancy and training to organisations across the north of England. We explore the stories that give a brand meaning. From uniting team members towards a common goal - to crafting a strong message that attracts a loyal customer base - I love seeing organisations thrive as a result of our work together.

My previous role as an Occupational Therapist gives me a unique perspective of individual psychology – how emotion, language and experience shape our thinking and behaviour. This knowledge has proved invaluable over my freelance career, enabling me to find and articulate a carefully crafted message that suits both my clients and their audience.

Alongside my commercial work with business owners, I am a published food writer and a passionate foodie. Just like the stories we tell, food plays a crucial role in drawing people together and cementing meaningful relationships.

In essence, it all comes to down to a love of people – the businesses we run, the communities we create and the food we share. The blog is where I choose to nurture my regular writing habit - sharing useful business content, food and drink recipes and anything else that feels important along the way.

My Services

 
 
 

Writing Services

 
 
 

 
 
 

Training & Consultancy

 
 
 

 
 
 

Food and Drink

 
 
 

Rhubarb Salsa by writer Claire Davies
Claire Davies Food Writer On Sofa

What My Clients Say

  • Sarah Cooper

    "Claire Davies was the guest speaker at a meeting I attended, in the short space of time we had together I learned so much about improving the way we communicate with our potential client base and about writing business copy in general. Her friendly yet professional manner underlined her passion for writing and I felt instantly at ease. I look forward to attending some of the writing workshops that Claire is running in the future."


  • Calire Davies Copywriter The Greedy Wordsmith North Yorkshire
    Little Seed Company

    "Sometimes you need someone to look at your work to find out how you can strengthen it further...Claire was professional, easy to get on with and raised many constructive points, which has enhanced the quality of my writing. She has natural people skills and takes a genuine interest in your work. I have no hesitation in recommending Claire's services to others." - Ellen


  • Claire Davies Copywriter The Greedy Wordsmith North Yorkshire
    Ann AllanMiddlethorpe Interiors

    "We like to work with 'nice people' at Middlethorpe Interiors so it was a pleasure to work with Claire. Always curious and respectful Claire took her time to understand our business values and how we work. She earned our trust very quickly as she was not only recommended to us but she proved herself with the copy, she completely understood who our clients are, what we are trying to achieve and who we are at our core. We will continue to work with Claire and would be delighted to recommend her services." -


  • Mark StredwickBrewtown Tours

    "I have known Claire for nearly two years and she writes articles and blogs for me about beer and the industry. I have received an excellent quality of writing and very happy to recommend Claire."


  • Stephen CreeOrange Crush Digital

    "We have worked with Claire Davies on a number of projects and she has added real value to each of them. Claire can work as part of a team or independently and this adaptability is really useful to us. Her copywriting is of a consistently high standard and deadlines are never missed! The best thing about Claire is that she's a really good person and a joy to work with. We like Claire! Highly recommended!"


Recent Blog Posts

  • World Suicide Prevention Day – A personal story
    I woke up with a banging headache that morning. My head hurt but my mind was calm. As I looked around the messy bedroom littered with old joints, underwear and cigarette papers I suddenly understood what had to happen. I had to die. This might sound like the first chapter of a depressing new novel (it'll probably win a Booker or something, the really depressing ones always win awards) but it actually describes the opening scenes to the morning my seventeen year old self decided to take her life. I use the third person because it feels like another lifetime ago. It also shows how I had detached from myself, from the reality. The whole experience felt like I had stepped outside my own body, an impartial observer in the corner of the room. In the weeks leading up to that moment I had isolated myself from my support network. I was overwhelmed with fear, anger, and I now understand, shame. Thanks to Brene Brown and others, we now have a greater understanding of how a person carrying unspoken shame is more prone to depression, addiction and suicide.
    Guilt says 'I did a bad thing. Shame says 'I am bad.' Brene Brown in a Call to Courage, Netflix
    I had been drowning this shame in alcohol, sex, cannabis and LSD but to no avail. With each sobering up, each morning after, each chemical come down the pain just came rushing back, always stronger than before. But this morning, this morning it was different. I woke calm. Pain free. Clear on what I had to do next. In that moment as you move from sleep to awake and the thoughts of the day come flooding in the first words that I heard were "I am going to die." I got out of bed, dressed, didn't wash. I may have brushed my hair. I remember thinking that I had to look okay, it was important that people couldn't tell. The other tenants of the shared house were out at work so there was no-one home to disturb my train of thought. The day seemed bright as I walked to the corner shop in the next street. I probably hadn't been outside in the fresh air for days. I've often wondered how I looked to the middle-aged shop assistant at the till. As I walked to the counter with nothing but boxes of paracetamol, paying with handfuls of change, knackered and unkempt. Nowadays you can only buy two boxes of pain relief in any one transaction, something I am convinced would have stopped me in my tracks. I'm not going to describe my attempted overdose, except to say that by some miracle of human resilience I suddenly woke up to what I was doing and made myself vomit more times than I can count. This probably saved my life. Within days I had returned home to my parents. But I told no-one about the suicide attempt until a medical emergency forced me to admit that I may have inadvertently damaged my liver with paracetamol. It would take another 27 years for me to tell anyone why I was in so much pain. Another story that needs to be told, but not today. My life has gone on to hold many more challenges, but has also been filled with love, family and enduring friendships. I have cried a lot, occasionally thrown things and have certainly used up my fair share of swear words. But I have also laughed until I couldn't breath, felt a pride that I never thought I could, tasted food that made me cry with joy and been filled with awe at the natural world around us. I am forever grateful. Life isn't always easy, but it is almost always worth living. Why am I writing about this? I'm not entirely sure. Partly because I have learnt that many of us are living with depression, anxiety and self-hatred but are too embarrassed and ashamed to speak out. And as we have already established, shame kills. Particularly in the case of male mental health. So many times I have stood silently by while someone declares suicide a cowards way out, unable to form the words I need to show them otherwise. This then, is my response. But I think that my main motivation is to give a voice to those who have survived suicide, and perhaps, a voice to those who have not. In the telling of our stories, as distressing as they are, maybe we can shine a light on how to tackle this issue going forward. After all, shame thrives in the darkness of silence. All we can do is keep talking and believe that we can find a way back. 
  • Shedding skins – Coming back to myself as a writer
    Mr D and I just got back from a week in Portugal. Our first trip out of the country in fifteen years this was a beach, sun and food kinda week. It's been so long because our mental fitness - and as a result, financial fitness - just wasn't strong enough before now. Our first trip abroad since my heart transplant ten years ago, last week acted as a litmus test for more demanding holiday plans in the future. With plentiful time by the pool and beach, my thoughts inevitably turned to my writing. A month ago I made the decision to step back from my commercial work and take a creative break. Actually, take a rest. What I needed more than anything was a rest. Following the words of more business and life coaches than I care to mention, I have been chasing around 'achieving' and 'striving' and 'pushing boundaries' since coming out of the starting blocks after my transplant and, quite frankly, it was getting me nowhere. Except perhaps exhausted and mentally unwell. And frustrated. And unfulfilled and purposeless. So I took the decision to take a rest. To write. Cook. Fill my time with all of the things that I never get the chance to do while I am chasing freelance 'success'. Do a bit of bloody housework...

    Anxiety is a creative block

    But the writing never came. At first, I found myself doing more work, not less. Recognising a familiar pattern I made a conscious effort to put down existing work and start turning down new enquiries. Gradually, the workload petered out and I began to see the space that I had hoped for...only for my brain to go into full meltdown mode... "AAGH WHAT ARE YOU GONNA DO...YOU HAVE NO PURPOSE...WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE - TAKING TIME TO DO NOTHING...WHAT KIND OF PRIVILEGE IS THIS...WHY SHOULD YOU GET THIS WHEN OTHERS CAN ONLY DREAM OF TAKING TIME OUT...STOP BEING AN AIRY FAIRY NO GOOD AND GET BACK TO WORK...HOW DARE YOU CALL YOURSELF A WRITER...HA!" Well, you get the drift. I was kind of looking forward to the holiday. With expectations of productivity temporarily put aside, I hoped it would give me the permission I so obviously needed to just relax and go with the flow. With very little wifi it also helped me to see that, despite making a conscious effort with social and other forms of media, I am still clogging me creative channels with a heavy diet of Facebook, Twitter and Instagram. It's important to me to stay connected with issues that matter (poverty, inequality, climate change, the slow conversion to The Handmaid's Tale that currently seems to be hitting America) but I need to find a way that doesn't freak me out so much that the lump of fear in my throat stops me from finding my voice.

    Shedding expectations

    So here I am. At the computer, drinking the coffee we snook home in our hand luggage, in a vain attempt to capture the Laissez-faire mindset I found on holiday. Writing. Just writing. With no real marketing goal or social purpose other than to say hi, this how I have been feeling lately. Maybe you have been feeling the same?

    Bit by bit I'm shedding the practical, planning, goal orientated skin of commercial writing. Just a little, I can see the fresh skin of creation hiding underneath, luminescent and fragile in the British spring sunshine. This excites me, but I worry about its survival. Perhaps my purpose for the next few months is simply to protect this new stage of growth, shield it from the expectations of a society that values nothing if it is not making money, building, moving onto the next goal with speed. Hopefully, I am shedding these expectations too, and slowly finding my way back to myself as a writer.

     
  • Historic Recipes for the Modern Kitchen – Noah’s Pudding

    Asure

    (Ash - oo - ray)

    There are times when a new recipe develops through hours of research. Others flash into life from a simple word, smell or taste whilst I’m thinking of something completely unrelated. Then, like this one, inspiration visits me via someone else. Noah’s Pudding appeared in a novel my husband was reading, the main character prepared and served the dessert for dinner guests. The description included grains, pulses and dried fruits combined in a sweet, porridge-like consistency. John thought it sounded tasty and the name itself had me hooked.

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