Oct 7, 2026 · @Chris
It starts at a family barbecue. You mention the business needs a new website, and your brother-in-law looks up from the esky. He’s good with computers, he built a site for his touch footy club, and he’ll do yours for a carton.
It sounds like a win. Six months later you have a half-finished homepage, a Christmas lunch you’re dreading, and no new enquiries.
We have nothing against brothers-in-law. Plenty of them are lovely. The problem is the arrangement, and it tends to go wrong in the same few ways.
Why the offer is so tempting
Saying yes makes sense on the day. A website feels like a big, vague expense, and here is someone you trust offering to make it go away. He knows you, he knows the business, and he won’t send an invoice.
But the invoice is only one part of what a website costs. The rest shows up later: in lost time, in awkwardness, and in customers who landed on your site and left.
Writing for the web is a trade, not a hobby
Being able to write is not the same as being able to write a website. Your brother-in-law might deliver a cracking wedding speech. Web copy has a different job: it has to turn a stranger with a few seconds of patience into an enquiry.
That takes work most people never see:
- Finding out who your customer is and what worries them before they pick up the phone.
- Leading with what you do for them, not the year you were founded.
- Using the words people type into Google, so the right people find you at all.
- Giving every page one clear next step: call, book or buy.
- Sounding like the same business on your website, your socials and your ads.
A relative writing as a favour usually skips all of this, through no fault of his own. He writes what he knows about you. Your customers need to read what you can do for them.
The writing is only half the job
Even a well-written website does nothing if nobody finds it. Most of what gets a site onto Google happens in the background, where neither you nor your customers ever look.
Here is some of what has to be done:
- Telling Google the site exists. Setting up Google Search Console and submitting a sitemap, so your pages get indexed.
- Labelling every page. Page titles, descriptions and headings that match what people search for.
- Speed and mobile. Pages that load quickly and work properly on a phone, because Google takes both into account.
- Local listings. A complete Google Business Profile, with the same name, address and phone number everywhere you’re listed.
- Links from other sites. Reputable websites linking to yours, which tells Google you’re worth recommending.
- Redirects from the old site. Pointing old page addresses to the new ones, so you keep the ranking you’ve already earned.
- Measuring. Analytics that show which pages bring in enquiries and which don’t.
None of this shows on the page, so it’s the first thing a favour leaves out. The site launches, looks fine, and sits on page six of Google where no customer will ever see it.
It isn’t a one-off job either. Rankings need tending month after month, long after your brother-in-law has moved on to his next project.
Favours run on someone else’s timetable
A paying client gets a deadline. A favour gets whatever time is left after his job, the kids’ sport and his own weekend. And you can’t chase him, because nobody sends a “just following up” email to someone doing them a kindness.
So the launch drifts. Meanwhile your old site, or no site at all, keeps representing you to everyone who looks you up.
You can’t sack him, and you can’t really tell him
Good copy comes out of blunt feedback: this is too long, this doesn’t sound like us, start again. That’s an easy conversation with a supplier. It’s a hard one with the man who married your sister.
So most people say “looks great, thanks” and live with a website they don’t like. The rest say what they think, and hear about it at every family gathering for the next five years.
Nobody owns it once it’s live
A website is never finished. Prices change, services get added, staff move on, and the “Winter Special” banner is still up in January. Someone has to keep it current, and a favour rarely includes maintenance.
There’s a practical risk too. If the logins, the domain and the hosting sit in his name, your business’s front door belongs to someone else. If he gets busy, moves interstate or falls out with the family, getting it back is painful.
What “free” really costs
| The favour | The professional | |
|---|---|---|
| Upfront cost | A carton and a thank you | A quoted fee |
| Deadline | When he gets to it | Agreed in writing |
| Feedback | Polite silence | As blunt as you like |
| Written for | You | Your customers |
| After launch | You’re on your own | Someone to call |
| If it goes wrong | An awkward Christmas | You find another supplier |
The fee is the only row the favour wins. And the biggest cost of a weak website is one you never see: the people who visited, didn’t find what they needed, and rang your competitor instead.
What to do instead
Keep your brother-in-law for what he does best: turning up to the barbecue and telling everyone how good your business is. Word of mouth from family is worth having.
Give the website to someone whose job it is. Whoever you choose, ask them three questions first:
- How will you learn about my customers before you write a word?
- What’s the timeline, and what happens if it slips?
- Who looks after the site after launch, and who holds the logins?
At Clix4U, this is our day job. We write websites that sound like you, speak to your customers and work hand in hand with your social media.
Get in touch for a chat about yours. Bring your brother-in-law’s draft if you like. We won’t tell him.
