I wanted to be a poet once upon a time.
Ha ha. But please feel free to Open door
Then a storyteller.
Well, I ended up with a blog.
Then I wanted to work in advertising.
And I did. I was (and am) a creative copywriter.
But along the way I learnt how to suffer when my creation was pinned to a wall.
There’s nothing quite like presenting your first idea to a group of fellow creatives.
You feel raw.
The birth of an idea can be very painful.
The delivery onto paper can be slow, and fraught with difficulty. Sometimes even blood is involved, if the art director annoys the copywriter enough.
And the copywriter happens to have a heavy steel ruler in their hand.
But then, at last, you have your beloved concept.
‘My baby. My love. Heart of my heart.’
You beam. So proud.
The time has come to present it to the world.
You hold it up for others to admire.
And so often they slowly (joyfully?) tear it into pieces.
If you’ve worked in the commercial creative business, you too will know the hot, wrenching physical pain of your work being picked at, dissected and destroyed in front of your friends, colleagues, and most horribly, your rivals.
The deep cuts of scything criticism. The shredding power of chilling sarcasm.
I used to hear a small child’s voice inside me, begging the critics and the creatives to move on, move away.
To please, please, PLEASE look away from my precious, previously loved work.
My beautiful baby.
Only now I see it is maybe not so beautiful.
It has many faults.
It is deformed. Wrong.
Nobody loves it.
When you decide to pin your heart to a wall, or a page – or a blog – everyone has the right to look at it.
To hate it.
To ignore it.
Or to love it.
It can be difficult to keep on going.