Reusable templates for the things you keep writing twice. Variables that adapt to the recipient. Sentences that still sound like you wrote them.
A good template is a skeleton, not a costume. It saves you the seven sentences nobody enjoys writing — the greeting, the framing, the obligatory close — and leaves the three sentences that actually matter for you, the human, to write.
Oh Boiler is for the writing you do over and over: cover letters tuned per role, cold emails tuned per prospect, performance reviews tuned per direct report. Save the structure once. Keep the variables. Stop rewriting the boilerplate. Start writing what matters.
↑ one Oh Boiler template. Variables in terracotta. Soul paragraph in your own words.
![Variable substitution metaphor — left, a template page with [NAME], [ROLE], [COMPANY] placeholders in serif type; warm amber arrow; right, the same page with handwritten names in terracotta ink](/variable.jpg)
A variable is a placeholder you fill once per recipient. Names, roles, the inside joke, the specific detail. The skeleton holds. The soul changes. Two filled-out copies read as completely different letters — because they are.
Each Oh Boiler template is a structure plus a list of variables. Fill them once per recipient. The body writes itself. The soul stays yours.
Open with the problem in their words. Frame the work as a sequence of outcomes, not deliverables. Close with a single, easy next step. Tune the tone per client — boutique studio, mid-market, enterprise — without retyping the spine.
Replace the dreaded "I'm writing to apply for" opener with one specific thing you noticed about the role. Variable per company. Your story stays the same. Save eight versions, never write the boilerplate twice.
A short opener tied to one observable detail (a launch, a hire, a podcast). A one-sentence reason you're reaching out. A frictionless ask. You'll send forty in an hour and none will read as if you sent forty in an hour.
Three sections: shipped, blocked, looking ahead. Five bullets max per section. Variables for the numbers, the names, the dates. Your team learns the shape of your week in one glance. No more 600-word essays at 11 p.m. Sunday.
An opening anecdote slot. A "what I'm working on" slot. A reading list slot. A sign-off that sounds like you, every time. Variables for the subject hook and the one thing the reader should actually click. Boilerplate killed the indie newsletter — Oh Boiler revives it.
Greeting variable per plan tier. A first-week roadmap with three concrete actions. A "we read every reply" footer that's actually true. Stop sending the same "Welcome to [PRODUCT]!" email your competitors send.
Strengths section with three observed examples. One growth area framed as a goal, not a deficit. A line about the next six months together. Variables for names, projects, and the specific feedback. The hardest writing of the year, halved.
For the 80 people whose birthdays you remember and the 14 you actually want to write a real note to. Variables for the inside joke, the shared memory, the thing they're working on. Personal in 90 seconds, not awkward in eight.
Click each card.
"Hi Sarah, I hope this email finds you well. I'm writing to follow up on our previous conversation regarding the upcoming Q2 deliverables. As we discussed, I wanted to circle back to ensure alignment on…"
"Sarah — quick Q2 check-in. The shipping date holds. The blocker is sign-off on the security review. Can you ping Jane today? Saves us a week."
"I am writing to express my keen interest in the Senior Product Designer position at your esteemed company. With over seven years of experience in the field, I believe I am a strong candidate…"
"The line in the JD about owning the new B2B onboarding flow is why I'm writing. I spent the last three years rebuilding ours — moved activation from 38% to 61% — and I'd love to do it again, here."
Somewhere between "Hi, I hope this finds you well" and the last paragraph of a corporate apology, the English language got tired. Boilerplate isn't the failure of writing — it's the failure of caring about which sentences are worth writing twice and which aren't.
Oh Boiler is built on a simple belief: the only sentences worth writing fresh every time are the ones that carry the actual signal. The greeting, the close, the framing — those should be a structure you set once, and never think about again. Save your attention for the line that matters. The one with the specific detail. The one that, when they read it, makes them pause.
"Writing is the act of choosing which two sentences to keep, and which six were merely throat-clearing. Oh Boiler removes the throat-clearing. The choosing stays yours." — from the welcome doc
Recruiters. Founders. Studio leads. Account managers. The people whose inbox is the work, and who've quietly given up on sounding fresh by the fortieth Tuesday. Oh Boiler is for the writer who knows what good looks like — and is tired of starting from a blank page every time.
You'll keep the voice. You'll keep the structure. You'll lose the seven sentences of throat-clearing nobody enjoys writing. Tuesday afternoon, returned to you.
Built by working writers, refined across hundreds of uses, free on every plan.
Twelve lines, eight variables. Built to land replies, not perform sincerity. Used by 4,300 founders in the last quarter.
8 variables · 12 lines · < 90 seconds to fill
Three sections, fifteen variables. Your team sees the week in a glance. Your manager stops asking what you did this week. Sundays return to you.
15 variables · 22 lines · < 4 minutes to fill
Strengths in threes. One growth area, framed as a goal. A closing paragraph that sounds like the manager you are, not the form you're filling out. Halves your review week.
11 variables · 38 lines · ~18 minutes per direct report
Free starter. A Pro plan for working writers. A team plan for the company that's tired of its own boilerplate.
For one writer, finding their templates.
For the writer with a hundred Tuesdays to save.
For the company writing the same things in five voices.
No. Snippets paste a fixed block. Oh Boiler templates hold variables — first name, role, the inside joke, the launch you noticed — and prompt you to fill them per recipient. The body is the boilerplate. The soul (the variable content) is yours. The result reads like a letter, not a Mad Lib.
If you want. The Pro plan includes AI fill assist for any variable — paste the JD, the LinkedIn profile, the company's last blog post, and Oh Boiler drafts the variable content. You edit it before sending. The structure is yours; the soul of the message is yours; the AI helps you not stare at a blank field for ten minutes.
You can. But you'll write the same prompt for the eighth time on a Tuesday, get an inconsistent voice, and lose the structural choices that made the message land last time. Oh Boiler is the storage layer between you and a model: your structures, your voice presets, your per-contact memory. The model is a tool you summon when you need it, not a thing you wrestle with from scratch.
Two things. First, the structure: our templates are built by working writers, not committee-tested. Second, the variables: most templates have between 6 and 15, which is enough specificity that two filled-out copies read as completely different letters. The boilerplate is invisible. The soul is yours.
Your templates and recipient memory live in our database in the EU (Frankfurt). We never train models on your content. AI fill assist sends only the prompt content you explicitly send, to the model you explicitly pick, and we don't retain it. Full data export in plain JSON, anytime.
No — and that's the point. Because the structure is invisible and the variables are specific, a filled-out Oh Boiler template reads as a letter someone wrote on a Tuesday afternoon. Which is exactly what it is, only the Tuesday afternoon happened once, and the letter happens forty more times.
Start free. Five templates, no card. Find the three you'll use forever. Upgrade when your boilerplate's worth more than a coffee.