The hardest version of a landing page to write is the first one, because you are writing for visitors you have never met, with no traffic to test on, and nothing honest to put in the testimonial slot. Almost every guide to this subject assumes the opposite situation: a page with enough traffic to split-test, a designer, and a wall of customer logos. This one assumes what you actually have, which is a page, a rough idea of who it is for, and maybe forty visitors a month.
So this is a teardown rather than a lecture. Three pages taken apart section by section, with the copy that was there, the copy that replaced it, and the reasoning in the margin. The pages below are composites. No real page is reproduced word for word, the products are invented, and the patterns are the ones that keep turning up in the landing pages founders put through our free landing page roast.
What is the only job of your hero?
The hero has exactly one job: within five seconds, a stranger should be able to say what the product does, who it is for, and what happens if they click. Everything else up there is decoration, and decoration is what you cut first.
That five-second budget is not a rhetorical flourish. Nielsen Norman Group's reading research puts the share of words an average visitor gets through at somewhere between 20 and 28 percent, and their later eye-tracking work on scrolling found about 57 percent of viewing time spent above the fold, and 74 percent inside the first two screenfuls. People do scroll now. They just spend most of their attention deciding whether scrolling is worth it, and that decision is made on your headline, your subhead, and your button label.
The five-second test, defined
Show a stranger your page for five seconds, take it away, and ask three questions: what does it do, who is it for, and what would you do next. A hero passes when a person who has never heard of you can answer all three. Nothing else in the hero is load-bearing.
The most common way a founder hero fails is not ugliness or a weak offer. It is category poetry: sentences built on reimagined, effortless, all-in-one platform, or built for modern teams. Those are verdicts about your own work, delivered by you, to someone with no reason to accept them. Worse, they are interchangeable. Swap the logo and the same sentence sells a CRM, a code editor, or a mattress.
Which headline formulas survive real visitors?
Five shapes hold up under a stranger's five seconds, and each one fails in a specific, predictable way. Pick the shape that matches what is genuinely true about your product rather than the one that sounds most impressive, because the failure column is where founders end up when they choose on sound.
| Formula | Example | Best when | Fails when |
|---|---|---|---|
| Outcome without the pain | Change your Postgres schema without a staging scare | The pain already has a name inside your niche | You invent a pain the reader does not recognize, so the sentence reads as a complaint about nothing |
| Job for a named audience | Invoicing for freelance designers who bill hourly | Your wedge is a segment rather than a feature | You name the audience but not the job, which produces a page that flatters people without telling them anything |
| The plain description | Track every subscription your company pays for | The category is understood and your product is the obvious shape of it | Fifty products fit the same sentence and nothing further down the page separates you from them |
| Time to result | Ship a status page in ten minutes | Speed is genuinely the differentiator and you have watched someone hit the number | The number is aspirational. The first user who takes forty minutes stops believing the rest of the page |
| The known-thing analogy | Figma for sound design | The reference product is universal among the exact people you want | The reader has to know two products to understand one, or the comparison invites a fight you lose |
One test settles most headline arguments. Read the sentence and ask whether a competitor could put it on their own page without lying. If they could, it is not a headline, it is a category label. The fix is almost always to add the specific noun you were avoiding because you worried it made the product sound small. Postgres instead of databases. Freelance designers instead of teams. Small does not lose you readers. Vague does.
The words themselves should not be invented at your desk. The most reliable headline I have written came out of a sentence somebody said on a call, almost verbatim, complete with the slightly awkward phrasing that made it sound like a person. If you have not run those calls yet, the question set in customer discovery interview questions is where the raw material comes from.
How should you order the middle of the page?
The middle of the page has one structural rule: answer objections in the order visitors think of them, not in the order your features happen to be listed in your codebase. A feature grid is what you build when you have not decided what the reader is worried about, and readers can tell.
Six questions run through a visitor's head, roughly in this sequence. Each one should own a section, and a section that answers none of them is a section to delete.
Is this for someone like me?
The hero, by naming the audience and the job in one sentence
What actually happens when I use it?
One screenshot with real data in it, or three literal steps. Not a feature grid
Will it handle my awkward case?
The honest edge-case section, including the cases you do not handle yet
Has anyone else done this and survived?
Proof, placed here rather than in the hero
What does it cost, and what happens if I stop?
Pricing, plus one line about cancellation and getting your data out
What do I do right now?
One button, describing an outcome rather than an act of admin
Writing those section headings as questions in the reader's own words does two jobs at once. It keeps you honest about whether the section earns its place, and it makes the page legible to the machines that increasingly read it before a human does. A heading that matches the question somebody typed is the part an assistant can lift and attribute.
The section founders resist writing is the one about the awkward cases, and it is consistently the one that converts. Naming what your product does not do yet costs you the readers who were going to churn in week two, and it buys credibility with everyone else, because you have just said the one thing a marketing page is never supposed to say.
Where does proof go when you have almost none?
When you have almost no proof, make the proof slot small, specific and true rather than large, generic and borrowed. One named quote from one real beta user, with their role attached, does more work than six logos you are not entitled to display.
There is a rough ladder here, and it is worth knowing which rung you are actually standing on.
- A named person, a role, and a specific sentence. The strongest thing available to a pre-launch product, and the easiest to get, because it costs your user two minutes.
- A small number you can defend. Eleven practices for four months reads as real precisely because it is unimpressive. Round, large, unsourced numbers read as marketing.
- Your own working, shown in public. A changelog, a build log, a short demo of the real product with real data in it. Evidence of competence substitutes for evidence of demand.
- Logos and trusted-by lines you have not earned. A visitor who recognizes none of them concludes the trust was borrowed, and that suspicion then travels back up the page.
There is a newer reason to care about the exact sentence in that slot. Your positioning no longer gets read only on your page. In Similarweb's analysis of the domains ChatGPT cites most, Wikipedia and Reddit sit far ahead of everything else at 13.15 and 11.97 percent of citations, which is more than a quarter of them between two community and reference sites. Your product gets described secondhand, by other people, in places you do not control. Write the one sentence you want repeated, put it where somebody can copy it, and make it short enough to survive being pasted into a comment.
Getting that first quote is a distribution problem rather than a writing problem, and it is the one covered in how to get testimonials for a new product.
What should the button actually say?
A call to action should name one outcome the reader wants, not one act of administration you need. Get started, sign up and learn more all describe work the visitor is being asked to do. The replacement is usually the same click described from the other side of it.
| Instead of | Try | Why it moves |
|---|---|---|
| Get started | Import your first CSV | The second one tells the reader what is on the next screen, so clicking stops being a leap. |
| Start your free trial | See your own numbers in it | A trial is your billing model. Nobody wants a trial. They want the thing the trial contains. |
| Learn more | Read the two-minute setup | Learn more has no destination in the reader's head, so it competes with closing the tab. |
| Book a demo | Book fifteen minutes with me | Names the cost in time and the person on the other end. Both are objections you were going to hit anyway. |
| Sign up free | Try it without an account | Only if it is true. If your product can run once without a signup, saying so removes the largest objection at the exact moment it appears. |
One action per page, repeated. Two competing buttons of equal weight is the most common self-inflicted wound on a founder landing page, because it converts a decision the visitor was ready to make into a decision they now have to think about. Put the secondary path in text at half the visual weight, and let the primary button carry the page.
Three before-and-after teardowns
Here is the same reasoning applied end to end. Each pair below takes one page, shows the copy that was there and the copy that replaced it, then explains the three decisions in the margin. Each teardown targets a different part of the page, because founder pages fail in different places and a checklist that only fixes heroes leaves most of the problem standing.
The hero
A command-line tool that runs Postgres schema migrations
Before
- Headline
- Migrations, reimagined.
- Subhead
- The modern developer platform for schema management at any scale.
- Button
- Get started
After
- Headline
- Change your Postgres schema without a staging scare
- Subhead
- See the exact SQL before it runs, roll it back with one command, and keep a record of who changed what.
- Button
- Run it against a test database
- Reimagined is a verdict, and it is the founder's verdict on their own work. A stranger cannot check it and has no reason to accept it. The replacement names a specific bad night the reader has already had.
- At any scale is aimed at a buyer who does not exist yet, and it costs the hero the one thing it owed the reader: whether this is for them. Narrowing to Postgres lost nobody and gained a reader who recognizes themselves.
- Get started describes admin. Run it against a test database describes a safe five-minute action, and it answers the biggest objection, which was never going to be said out loud.
The middle of the page
Invoicing built for freelance designers
Before
- Section 1
- Features: a grid of nine icons with two words under each
- Section 2
- Pricing
- Section 3
- Footer
After
- Section 1
- Will this handle how I actually bill? (hourly, fixed fee, retainer, and what happens when one project uses all three)
- Section 2
- What happens when a client pays late (the reminder schedule, shown as it is sent)
- Section 3
- Getting your existing invoices in, and getting them back out
- Section 4
- Pricing
- A feature grid answers a question nobody asked. The middle of a page exists to clear objections in the order the reader has them, and a reader who is not yet sure the tool fits their billing model will never arrive at the pricing table.
- Every heading became a question in the reader's own words. That has a second payoff: those headings match what people type into a search box and into an assistant, so one page stops being one keyword deep.
- The late-payment section was the one the founder did not want to write, because it names the ugly part of freelancing. It became the section prospects quoted back in conversations.
The close
Scheduling for a one-person therapy practice
Before
- Proof
- Trusted by practices everywhere, over six grey logos
- Button
- Start your free trial
- Fine print
- No credit card required
After
- Proof
- One named quote from a beta user, with their role: the reminder texts cut my no-shows enough that I stopped double-booking on Fridays.
- Number
- Eleven practices have been running it for four months
- Button
- See your week with your hours already in it
- Six logos a reader cannot name are worse than one quote they can. A visitor who recognizes none of them concludes the trust was borrowed, and that suspicion then applies to everything above.
- The number in this example is invented, because the page is. Yours has to be real. Eleven practices for four months is a far smaller claim than trusted everywhere, and a far stronger one, because it is specific enough to be checked.
- Start your free trial asks the reader to begin a countdown. The replacement describes what they will be looking at ninety seconds from now. Identical click, completely different promise.
Read the three sets of margin notes together and the same move shows up in all of them. Every fix replaced something the founder believed about their product with something the reader could verify in a second. That is most of the craft. Copy is not persuasion so much as the removal of every sentence a stranger has to take on faith.
How do you test copy with no traffic?
You cannot split-test forty visitors, and pretending otherwise wastes weeks. The substitute for a bigger sample is a different instrument: ask people directly, in a structured way, and treat five answers as the data.
Run it like this and it takes an afternoon.
- Five people, five seconds. Show the page, close it, then ask what it does, who it is for, and what they would do next. Write the answers down verbatim rather than summarizing them into what you hoped they meant.
- Two wrong answers out of five is a failing hero. Not a debate, a threshold. Rewrite the headline and the subhead, then run it again with five different people.
- Ask the right five. Friends and designers give you taste feedback. You want people who have the job your product is for, or founders who ship pages often enough to spot the pattern from cold.
- One section per pass. Rewriting the whole page at once means you never learn which change did the work, even at this small scale.
The awkward part is finding five people who will be honest with you. Machine feedback gets you the first pass for free: our landing page roast tool reads a page and tells you where the hero fails the five-second test, which is the same critique I would give and takes about thirty seconds. Why we built that as a free public tool rather than a lead magnet is laid out in the weekend free-tool playbook.
Human feedback is the part that is genuinely hard to buy, which is a large part of why Favors.dev exists. It is a founder marketing co-op with a points economy: you earn points by giving other founders real, specific feedback on their pages and launches, and you spend those points to have a room of founders pull yours apart. Nobody is being polite to you out of obligation, which is exactly why the notes are usable. Once the page is right, the next constraint is getting the right traffic in front of it, which is a sales problem rather than a copy one and is covered in your first 10 paying customers. The wider set of zero-budget channels that feeds a page like this sits in SaaS marketing on no budget, and the checklist version of a roast, including what a good one should cover, is in roast my landing page.
Frequently asked questions
How long should a SaaS landing page be?
As long as it takes to answer the six objections a visitor has, in the order they have them, and not one section longer. For most pre-launch products that is a hero, three or four objection sections, one proof block, pricing, and a close. Length is the symptom founders argue about. Order is the actual problem.
What should a landing page headline say?
What the product does and who it is for, in the words the reader already uses. The two most reliable shapes are the outcome stated without its usual pain, and the job stated for a named audience. Avoid category poetry such as reimagined, modern, or all-in-one platform: those are verdicts about your own work that a stranger has no way to verify.
Do I need testimonials before I launch a landing page?
No, but the proof slot cannot be empty and it cannot be borrowed. One named quote from a real beta user, with their role attached, beats a row of logos you are not entitled to use. If you have no users at all, a specific number about your own work, a public build log, or a short demo of the real product all read as more honest than a trusted-by line.
How do I write landing page copy when I have no traffic to test on?
Replace the A/B test with a five-second test run by hand. Show the page to five people who have the job your product is for, take it away after five seconds, then ask what it does, who it is for, and what they would do next. If two of five get the audience wrong, the hero is wrong, and no amount of traffic would have told you faster.
Should I write the copy or design the page first?
Copy first, every time. Sentence length decides column width, the number of objections decides the number of sections, and the strength of your proof decides where the proof block goes. A layout chosen before the words exist becomes a set of boxes you then have to write filler for.
