Editing myself

I've been doing the same thing for a long time. I'm not talking about avoiding writing these blogposts — although since the last one I posted was November 11, 2025 I suppose you could make an arguement for it.

What I'm talking about is copywriting. Creative directing. Endless meetings. Town halls. You know, the ad game. I used to tell the wife if I was still writing commercials when I was forty to just shoot me. Clearly I had blown past that deadline.

So last year, when a certain leading cybersecurity company I'd been a creative director at for three years, and I'm not naming names — CrowdStrike — aftrer having several years of outstanding growth and financial reporting with Wall Street, unexpectedly laid off 5% of its staff, which if you're keeping count came out to 500 people (apparently the only breach they couldn't stop was trust), I found myself in an interesting position. Was I going to take my newly found expertise and look for another job in the cybersecurity world? Head back to an advertising agency after five years on the client side (yes the math adds up - before CrowdStrike I was at Epson for two years)? Do nothing, or do something completely different.

The answer about the next step building a future version of me came in the form of my great friend and writer extraordinaire Cameron Day. For reasons I will never know and will always be eternally grateful for, Cameron asked me to edit the second volume of his wildly entertaining, brutally honest and endlessly entertaning advertising survival guide trilogy pictured above, Spittin' Chicklets.

Then he asked me to edit the third one.

And a book about his f*@ked up adventures from the ad trenches.

And his wild ride as an AI anarchist in his book co-authored by AI.

I happened to mention to my former client and close friend Pete Wendy how much I was enjoying this new endeavor thanks to Cameron, and come to find out Pete was writing a book his own self and asked if I would edit it.

I love it when momentum decides to do its job.

This is the book Pete wrote. I think you'll find it well written and extraordinarily edited.

As The Fixx like to say, one thing leads to another. You're welcome Jim DeCorpo (inside joke, don't even try).

Cameron referred me to his friend John Long, who, you guessed it, was in the process of writing a book about legacy brands and what they need to do to survive.

The book is called Zombie Brands, and is packed with exceptional writing, insights and solid advice for older brands looking to survive in the new world.

The thing about this newfound career is the pressure is on and off at the same time. I don't have to come up with the idea and write it. I get to shape it, and work with writers who care deeply about their work, but who don't want to suffer while improving it.

So what am I saying? I guess it's be open to things you haven't tried before. You never know where they'll lead.

Looking at that last line, I think I may have a future writing fortune cookies. Do you know anyone?

I can't wait for the movie

So it’s a book review. I don’t do them often, but sometimes—like Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction—a book comes along that simply will not be ignored.

Like most ads, this book review comes with a disclaimer. I’ve been friends with the author for somewhere in the neighborhood of thirty years, and I may have had a hand in editing this book.

And by the way, it’s a finely edited book.

The book I’m talking about is Stones & Sticks by Cameron Day. It’s the thrilling conclusion to the advertising trilogy, along with Chew With Your Mind Open and Spittin' Chiclets, that we didn’t know we needed but now can’t live without.

In Stones & Sticks, Cameron, who has clearly earned every gray hair on his LinkedIn profile, delivers a masterclass on what it’s like to sit atop the creative food chain.

Spoiler alert: it’s not all cappuccinos and Cannes Lions.

This isn’t just a book—it’s a survival guide for anyone who’s made it to the big chair with “Creative” in the title, and discovered that it comes with less creating and more fending off crises.

From managing tantrum-prone copywriters and art directors to explaining why your budget really needs those extra drone shots, Cameron walks us through his journey in the high-stakes chaos of wielding ultimate responsibility with wit, wisdom, and just the right amount of jaded sarcasm.

Added bonus—if you’re looking for a fun drinking game, take a shot every time he drops an f-bomb.

The writing is sharp, as if every sentence were honed during a midnight brainstorm fueled by stale donuts and cold pizza, two items that are somehow always available at agencies. Yet beneath the humor lies a treasure trove of practical advice only someone who’s been through the advertising wars with a view from the top could offer. The anecdotes about managing clients who think “just make it pop” is a strategy will leave you laughing and crying—sometimes simultaneously.

What makes Stones & Sticks truly stand out is its brutal honesty. Cameron doesn’t shy away from the burnout, the compromises, or the sheer number of acronyms you’ll pretend to understand during boardroom presentations.

But it also reminds us why we fell in love with advertising in the first place: the thrill of turning a half-baked idea into something iconic.

By the time you close the book, which if you’re like me you’ll wind up doing in one reading, you’ll feel both inspired and slightly terrified—a perfect encapsulation of what it means to be a Creative Director or Executive CD.

Whether you’re an intern dreaming of greatness, or a grizzled vet wondering if it’s too late to start a llama farm, this is the book you need.

If it were a campaign, it’d win gold at the One Show. And the client might even approve the first draft.

The real Rosalita

Sometimes you think you know everything about something, and then you find out you don't. Thanks to my great friend Cameron Day, come to find out that's the case with Bruce Springsteen.

I'd never given much thought to the song Rosalita, other than the fact it's always been one of my favorite songs. That, and the one time when I was in the front row at a Bruce concert and sang the line "I'm coming to liberate you, confiscate you, I want to be your man..." face-to-face with Bruce when he was at the foot of the stage. Still trying to hunt down that video.

What never occurred to me is there actually was a Rosalita. That is, until Cameron told me he'd met her.

Here's the story.

Cameron was working with an art director named David Jenkins. As guys will do, the conversation turned to the wives and the story of how they met. David told Cameron that when he met his wife Diana, he fell and fell hard for her. He said to himself, "She's the one." (See what I did there?)

But he was scared. He didn't know a lot about her past, and was fearful there might be deep, dark secret hidden in it that would crush him, or that he wouldn't be able to cope with. His heart would be broken beyond repair. So of course, in a manner so honest and straightforward I can only dream about, he took her to dinner and asked her.

They ordered, and then a little way into the meal he popped the question - the one about her past. Diane hesitated before answering, and David could see his whole future happiness about to Fade Away (did it again).

She paused, looked him in the eye, took a breath and said, as if it were a bad thing, "I dated Bruce Springsteen for three years. I'm the one he wrote Rosalita about."

Diane Lozito met Bruce in 1971 way before he hit it big, and they started dating. In the course of their relationship, naturally there came the inevitable point in time when Diane brought Bruce home to meet the parents. There's a line in Rosalita that goes, "and I know your daddy don't dig me but he never did understand..." The truth of the matter is Diane's dad was a classically trained musician, and hated the fact his daughter was dating a rocker.

That's how that went.

After they were married, Springsteen brought the tour to Dallas. Diane and David went to the show. Afterwards backstage, Bruce came over to talk to them, but spent most of the time talking to David. He put his arm around his shoulder and said, "Let's you and me go have a little talk." And they disappeared for about 45 minutes. When they finally reappeared, Bruce went over to Diane and said, "He's a good guy. Congratulations."

Boss blessings.

I also didn't know there was an actual Rikki (Don't lose that number), but I did know there was a real (My) Sharona because I sat with the lead singer of the Knack, Doug Fieger, one night when I was seeing a friend perform at a comedy club and he was talking about her.

But I digress.

I love the fact that even at this late stage of the game, I still have things to learn about Bruce. Thanks Cameron for giving me the first hand, inside story of Rosalita. Knowing she's around and happy will only give the song that much more meaning the next time I hear Bruce do it in concert.

And please relay to your friend David how glad I am he gets to live happily ever after with his stone desire.