Drive time

A good commute can be the difference between happy Jeff, and his evil twin – pissed off, short-fused, grudge-holding, horn-honking, lane-changing, one finger saluting, swearing like a drunk longshoreman Jeff.

So what makes a good commute? Well, for starters—and this should come as no surprise—distance.

For a long time, in what I believe was a very strange coincidence—or was it?—my commute to the agencies I was working at was exactly 26 miles each way. It seemed to be my travel threshold.

Even though 26 miles doesn’t sound like a lot, you can do the math - and if you can't then I believe it's a damning indictment of our public education system. Don't get me started. Where was I? Oh, right. It's 52 miles round trip. But at 8:30 a.m. or 6 p.m. going against traffic on the 405, they feel like dog miles. It may as well be a 1000.

All this to say my commute now is spectacular. The agency I’m currently at is right at the beach (or as I called it the last time I wrote about it, tsunami adjacent). I don’t have to get on a freeway to get there, I just cruise down Pacific Coast Highway from my house. There’s never any traffic on that stretch of PCH at that time of day, and it takes me about 20 to 25 minutes to arrive unstressed and un-pissed off at work.

Which brings me to the second component in a good commute: the destination.

I’ve worked for a few agencies in San Francisco over the years. They all have the same politics, personalities and British-accented, insight spouting, knit-cap wearing planners every other agency has. Here’s the difference: at the end of the day, I’d open the door to leave, and I’d be in San Francisco. It made up for a lot of ills. Flight and all, my commute to the San Francisco shops from my house was often faster than my commute to Orange County.

Another item that makes for a good commute is the scenery. You can have a short commute where you get to work in no time, but if it takes you through the senseless murder district coming and going, it’s still not very pleasant.

Since my commute du jour runs down PCH, I get to see the ocean, surfers, joggers and beach rats while I drive there and back. If I’m working a little later (stops to laugh at the thought of working later), I can even manage to catch a summer sunset. Like the old saying goes, getting there is half the fun.

Of course, depending which agency you're commuting to, it just may be all the fun.

Ghostwriter

The wide and raging river of taglines, headlines, subheads, subject lines, pre-headers, bold lead-ins, body copy, banner ads, manifestos, landing pages, social media posts, positioning statements and concept write-ups seems to flow on endlessly no matter which ad agency I happen to find myself at.

This of course is an excellent situation for a freelancer, because when the river dries up so does the bank account.

But as any copywriter will tell you, occasionally you have to deal with a bout of what real writer’s who aren’t creating a legacy of garbage (Legacy Of Garbage ©Janice MacLeod) refer to as writer’s block. For whatever reason, sometimes the words that make America buy just aren’t there when you need them.

Which is fine if you’re writing a snarky little blog only nine people read, and then only when reruns of the Bachelorette aren’t on. But when you’re a hired gun up against a deadline, there are no excuses. If the words aren’t there you have to go out and find them.

Fortunately I know just where to look. To my son James.

They say the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. But I don’t have an apple tree, because it attracts rats to the backyard and I have a black thumb and would probably kill it anyway. And who wants to eat apples that fall off a rat-infested tree into the dirt. There’s not enough Dawn and Brillo to get them clean enough for me to eat. Don't get me started on the worms.

I may have wandered off track here.

My son is a great writer. He's unburdened by strategy briefs, client concerns, nervous account people, award-whore creative directors, account planners whispering sweet nothing in his ear – and I do mean nothing. He just likes to make up fun lines. So on those rare occasions when I need to get a fresh, untarnished perspective because my brain has gone into vapor lock, I just give him a call and tell him what I need.

Give me some car headlines that talk about performance. Knock out a few lines for this video game. I need something for a hotel in half an hour.

He always delivers.

I'd like to think he gets his writing talent from my side of the family, but I think it's just who he is. Screenwriting major, hello? This is a kid who's not afraid of throwing it out there and seeing what happens.

So, to the agencies I work for now, and will in the future, rest assured that when it comes to writing copy for your prestigious clients, and even your lesser ones, I'm going to give it everything I've got. Including my first born.