Not a keeper

The first post is about the last year. Ironic ain't it?

So here's the thing. When it comes to the promises I made on our last trip around the sun, I'm a lot like the road to hell—I'm paved with good intentions. Alright, so maybe analogies aren't my metier (look it up), but you see where I'm going.

I made a lot of promises in 2017, some spur of the moment without much thought—you know, the same way I approach my career path (rolling eyes at the word "career")—some to you and even more to myself that despite the best intentions, well, we've already covered that.

For example, this one that would've made your Christmas shopping infinitely easier when it came to stocking stuffers. Or this one, where I vowed to be more disciplined and prolific with my blog postings (stops to laugh hysterically at the thought of being disciplined). But not as prolific as Round Seventeen because, frankly, my Crank-O-Meter doesn't go to eleven. And I'd rather read his posts than write my own.

Besides making gift buying easier and giving you more posts to avoid reading, I also made several promises to myself which I've broken like a fine china vase on a sitcom.

"Whatever you do Joey, don't touch the vase!"

"What, do you think I'm stupid? Of course I'm not gonna touch the vase."

SFX: Vase crashing to pieces on the floor.

Laughter and applause. Freeze frame. Roll credits.

Some are the same promises I've made before like losing weight, changing my style (which would involve actually having one), opening the folder marked Jeff's ideas and following through on some of them, any of them, one of them (yes Cameron Y., that includes the one marked "Screenplay ideas").

Those are the actionable, external promises. There are also the internal efforts that met with mixed success.

Cutting people some slack and realizing everyone's not going to do it my way or on my timetable, although for the love of God I still have no idea why not (only child, does it show?).

Following Elvis Costello's advice about trying to be more amused than disgusted at what's going on around me.

Sticking to the golden rule, no matter how hard someone is making it to do.

Not taking any of it personally, although I have to say I'm actually pretty good at that one.

Got a little heavy on you there didn't I? (Insert diet joke here). Yeah I know, I didn't see it coming either.

Anyway, all of this to say my promise to me and you for 2018 is to do better at keeping promises I make, and not make ones I can't keep.

This year, it's like Jules said in Pulp Fiction: "I'm trying Ringo. I'm trying real hard..."

Do I stay or do I go

I’ve always had great admiration for people who have more than one skill set they can make a living with. For example, my late, great friend George Roux was an art director, illustrator, commercial director and photographer. And he was equally adept at all of them. Damn him.

The problem is, the only thing I can really do is write. And depending on who you talk to, or if you've followed this blog for any length of time, even that's a little shaky.

Like so many of my colleagues, I occasionally entertain the idea of leaving advertising and moving on to a new challenge. Usually during status meetings, listening to account planners giving their insights or staff meetings where management tells everyone how great the new open office seating will be.

Don’t get me wrong: it’s not that copywriting hasn’t been good to me or isn’t challenging, but occasionally a restlessness sets in and I start thinking there might be something else that would be even more rewarding. It’s the same way I felt about my high school girlfriend.

Because there isn't much money in bingeing Breaking Bad, Better Call Saul, The Americans and House Of Cards, I started thinking about other things to do besides what I’m doing.

Here’s a partial list:

Crowd Estimator

I’ve always been good with numbers. I figure I could be that guy they cut to on the local news at concerts or sporting events. “Jeff, that looks like quite a gathering at the stadium tonight.” “That’s right Bill, I’d say there’s about 15,000 people here for the big show.” Then I’d get in the car and go home. Good gig.

Tire Store owner

I love tire stores. That new rubber smell, the S, T, H, V, ZR, W and Y speed ratings (note to Prius owners: S is all you need). What’s not to like about a job where you can toss around words like lug nuts and lateral run out (that's shimmy to you civilians). Not to mention the go-to jokes about being "under pressure" all the time. BAM! I’ll be here all week.

Fortune Cookie Writer

Here’s a gig that capitalizes on experience I already have—always a good thing. Play to my strength. Also, it’s one sentence at a time. That works well for me. Just a quick zinger, something uplifting, hopeful and funny in six or seven words. Besides, my wife used to be VP of Marketing for Panda Express. I already speak fortune cookie.

Ticket Taker

Whenever the discussion turns to creating jobs, this is one I always think of. Unnecessary and easy (did I use the high school girlfriend joke yet?), I’d be great at this. Movie theaters, Broadway theaters or even parking lots, I’d take the tickets with flair and a smile. There’s really not a lot of time for conversation since everyone’s in a hurry, which is fine by me. If you’ve ever been with me in an elevator, you know sometimes conversation is the last thing I want.

Couples picture taker

This one seems obvious, and yet you don't see a lot of them. Ok, you know when you're with your significant other at Disneyland, a concert, on vacation or at a restaurant, and you take either bad selfies or shots of the two of you individually? I'd be the guy wearing the resort uniform, just walking the grounds looking for people doing that and then saying, "I'll take that for you." One or two clicks, and I'm off to save the next vacation memory. I'd meet people, get exercise, learn about all sorts of photographic equipment and probably have a good tan at the end of it all.

You may have noticed the one alternative career choice not on the list is professional blogger. There are a couple of reasons for that.

First, I know for a fact there's no money in it. And second, have you read this blog lately?

You never forget your first

I think it's pretty clear that, judging from the very first ad I ever wrote which you see here, I was destined to become a world-class, award-winning, creative-championing, sushi-loving, lunch-taking copywriter. Destiny was calling. Or maybe it was laughing. Sometimes it's hard to tell.

I've covered my illustrious career path before here, so there's no reason to repeat myself. Other than I get to talk about myself again, and being an only child I think you know how happy that makes me.

But I'll spare you. If you don't know the world revolves around me by now, remind me to remind you again tomorrow.

I remember being so excited when this ad actually appeared in Reader's Digest I told everyone I knew about it. My friends, my parents, my girlfriend. It was a much bigger deal at the time. I'd be in supermarket checkout lines, and casually pick up a copy and flip to the ad, talking loudly about how I'd written it.

This tactic always seemed to work better when I wasn't shopping by myself.

Of course, as you can plainly see, despite my illusions of grandeur and for almost every reason, it sucked. Plus the junior art director I worked on it with was a notorious asshole known all over town. He eventually went on to own his own successful asshole agency, until he was thrown out when it was acquired by another agency that didn't want assholes. He was an extremely unpleasant part of my first copywriting experience. It wouldn't be the only unpleasant experience I'd have with this asshole, but that's for another post (guess what the title will be).

Anyway, since the subject of the ad was how the "bite-sized pillows" were designed, his breakthrough idea was to make it look like a schematic and put it on graph paper. I was new to this ad writing thing, but even then I still knew how to roll my eyes.

I shouldn't be too critical - after all, this is the ad that launched me into a career path I never expected, and one that's been very rewarding both personally and professionally. In hindsight, I now realize it taught me a couple of extremely valuable life lessons that I think apply not just to advertising, but to virtually every industry. To this very day, I carry these learned philosophies with me to every job I do.

First, whether it's an insurance policy, a work of literature or an ad, if you're going to put a product out in the world make it as creative, entertaining, informative, thought-provoking and relevant as possible.

And second, don't work with assholes if you can avoid it.

Dangerous words

According to some estimates, there are over 1,025,029 words in the English language.

But to anyone who works in an agency creative department, you know there are four extremely dangerous ones that should be avoided at all costs.

"What do you think?"

Those four little wolves-in-sheeps'-clothing words have caused more unnecessary frustration, anger and heartache, not to mention destroyed more great advertising, than the other 1,025,025 words combined.

Well, maybe not. But go with me here.

Here’s the thing: the vampire at your doorway at midnight, hungry with fangs bared, can’t come in. He can’t simply cross the threshold and suck the life out of you, even though that’s what he wants to do more than anything. You're safe inside and he's stuck outside.

Unless you invite him in. “What do you think?” is that invitation.

It gives people without jurisdiction, judgment or experience the opening they’re waiting for to – as Albert Brooks said in Broadcast News – lower our standards bit by bit.

Now, not all opinions are unwanted. But you can be sure the people who need to chime in, who have a dog in the race, will do it without being asked. They’re the ones that'll see what you’re trying to do, offer ways to keep it on track and true to your vision and, more often than not, make it better in the process.

Next time you're in an internal review, in the big conference room, and the chairs are filled by people who don't have more than a glancing relationship with the work being presented, do yourself and your career a favor.

Instead of asking "What do you think?", ask something that'll do a lot less damage and might actually put you in everyones' good graces right from the get-go.

Something like, "Are those bagels for everyone?"

Hepinstall!

I like to think I have a pretty objective assessment of my talent when it comes to writing. Essentially, I'm not bad. In fact most of the time I'm pretty good. And occasionally, I bat one out of the park.

On those days, when I'm feeling pretty good about myself knowing I've said exactly what I wanted to say, I walk with a little spring in my step. A certain joie de vivre if you will, knowing I've strung a few choice words together people will enjoy reading and thinking about.

Those are the days I try not to think about Kathy Hepinstall. Because if I do, then I have to face the cold, bright glare of harsh reality that I can't come close to how very good she is.

Hepinstall is a writer's writer. Reading her words are a joy. I don't know how she manages to make me feel awe and jealousy at the same time, but somehow she pulls it off.

She has the priceless ability to make readers feel deeply, surprise them and then leave them breathless. For a sample of what I'm talking about, have a gander at her latest blogpost Jesus Would Take The Middle Seat.

I like to imagine the words don't come easy to her, and that she struggles with the same angst and durang I do every time she faces a blank page. I'd like to think that. It would bring me enormous misery-loves-company joy. But reading her work, seeing the ease, flow and specificity of the words tells another story.

Kathy's also written four or five novels - I've lost count. My idea of being productive is leaving a note on the door for the UPS guy. Clearly we have different approaches.

If I were half the writer she is, I'd be twice the writer I am.

Which tells me I should start thinking about math teacher as an alternative career choice.

One for the ages

The elderly gentleman to the left, in case you didn't recognize him, is Burt Reynolds. Yes, that Burt Reynolds.

He made a rare public appearance at an east coast Comic Con, and because he's looking like a frail, ghostly version of his former movie star self, the press has had a field day. Let the speculation begin.

Here's what I think happened to Burt. He got old.

Reynolds is turning the corner on eighty. He's had a great life as an actor (at one time the most popular box office draw in the world), director, talk-show staple, star of television and commercials. The FedEx spot he did still makes me laugh.

Despite how hard we deny it, we're all standing on the tracks, and the age train's a comin'. And there are only two choices: board it gracefully, or hop on kicking and screaming. But either way, we're all going for the ride.

A while ago I started making this noise when I got out of my soft, comfy, low-to-the-ground reading chair. Then I realized it was my father's noise. My knees hurt every now and again (it's what kept me out of the 400-meter in Beijing in '08). And my eyesight, which is already corrected with progressive lens that bend walls if you look through them, is getting worse even as you read this.

And, as topping on the cake, I have gray hair. But my dad went gray when he was twenty-five years old, so I never stood a chance. There was this one time a bald colleague of mine started making fun of my gray hair, to which I replied, "You really want to get in a conversation about hair?" That felt good.

While father time waves his wand over all of us, it must be particularly hard on people like Reynolds who've been in the public eye since they were young. There's the line Julia Roberts says in Notting Hill about "becoming some sad, middle-aged woman who looks like somebody who was famous for awhile."

When Burt Reynolds was starting out, his calling card was the fact he looked like a double for Marlon Brando. It was a mixed blessing - it got him jobs and it cost him jobs. But the ones he got, he delivered on.

What with his marriage to and divorce from Loni Anderson, all the bad Smokey movies and the Playgirl centerfold it's understandable that sometimes people dismiss Reynolds' talent.

But then you have to take a minute and think about his performances in Deliverance, The Man Who Loved Cat Dancing, The Longest Yard, Starting Over, Sharky's Machine, Boogie Nights and The Player. Roles that betray his Brando wanna-be, pretty boy reputation.

Burt Reynolds has had several health problems over the years, including the one he's facing now: old age. In our youth driven time, it makes me sad an actor who's been so popular and entertained so many has to endure the speculation, lies and insults of a tabloid culture where vultures are swooping in literally even before the body's cold.

Someday, the paparazzi and hacks who've hounded him for years will be old and frail themselves. And I promise you one of the stories they'll spin over and over, because they can't remember they just told it ten minutes ago, is the one about the time they met Burt Reynolds.

Night calls

I’m in the minority, but I feel sorry for M. Night Shyamalan. I know, it’s hard to feel sorry for a Hollywood wunderkind who showed the kind of promise, made the kind of money and then crashed and burned the way he did. But I do.

I thoroughly enjoyed three of the ten films that Night’s directed. That’s at least one more than most people.

Like almost everyone, I loved The Sixth Sense. Even though I knew the secret from the very first time I saw the trailer (Haley Joel Osment looks at Bruce Willis and says, “I see dead people.” Hello? What do you need, a roadmap?), the mood, writing, look and secrets in the film were spellbinding.

His next, Unbreakable, was also a keeper. For any comic book or superhero fan such as myself (Comic Con again this year?! Why yes), the ending and reveal of who Samuel L. Jackson really was didn’t exactly come as a surprise. But it was still thrilling, as is the idea of the long-talked about sequel.

This third film is where I part ways with almost everyone I know. Signs. I liked this story of a man, Mel Gibson, who once was a man of the cloth but now finds himself questioning his faith. That’s what the movie was about, despite the fact it was sold as an alien invasion, sci-fi film. There is nuance, genuine heartbreak (SPOILER ALERT: I dare you to keep a dry eye as Gibson is talking to his wife before she dies) and redemption.

With these first three successes (yes, Signs made money), Night was allowed to write, produce, direct and often give himself larger acting roles in his films than he should have, seemingly without any supervision from the studio. From The Village (a rip-off of this Twilight Zone episode), to The Happening (which wasn’t), to The Lady In The Water, to The Last Airbender, each film stunk up the place more than the next.

Part of the problem was Night tried to duplicate the big twist/reveal ending of Sixth Sense in each of the subsequent films. He couldn’t.

He fancied himself a Spielberg. He wasn’t.

The studios thought they’d make buckets of money using his name as a brand. They didn’t.

What I don't understand is the extreme hate. When his name comes up on a film, people boo. Or laugh. Or groan. Why is he box office poison any more than Kate Hudson or Jennifer Aniston or Kathryn Heigl, all of whom seem to keep finding work. I think every Adam Sandler film deserves the same reaction (except for the laughing part). Maybe that's the reason the only place Night's name shows up for his latest film, After Earth starring Will Smith and his son, is on the poster. (By the way, it's been getting eviscerated in the reviews, and has a bottom-dwelling 13% on Rotten Tomatoes).

At least he's consistent.

Not that he asked me, but if I were him I'd walk away from the genre for a while. I'd direct something totally out of character and unexpected. Perhaps a comedy, which he's shown some real flair for in portions of some of his films. And I'd give myself a cameo, because as director it's fun to do that. But I'd make it a real cameo - the kind Hitchcock gave himself, usually about two seconds of screen time.

There are already a million Sixth Sense jokes, and even a YouTube video, about the secret of Night's career being that it was already dead. There's also a book about how he crashed and burned.

I can't say I've enjoyed a film of his in a long time.

But I'm still hoping the story of his career has a surprise ending.

Now how much would you pay?

Once in awhile I get an email from the Writer's Store. This one came today. My first thought was "What're they trying to say?"

Here's what they're trying to say: apparently there's a whole copywriting industry waiting to be broken into. And the best news is you don't even need experience or talent. If you're "even just an avid reader, you can turn your love for words into a lucrative career as a freelance copywriter."

I wish to hell someone had told me that sooner.

I wouldn't have wasted my time crawling out of the mail room at two different agencies. I never would've inhaled all those toxic chemical fumes I did as a stat camera operator. I would've passed on the chance to be the world's worst traffic person (excuse me, project manager). I wouldn't have bothered being the agency producer's assistant.

I now know how overrated all that getting to know how an agency works was. Of course, that first time I had a chance to write an ad for Bran Chex, when the account guy came running to me in a panic because all the creative teams were out of the agency, I do think it helped that I was actually in the agency.

But again, according to The Writer's Store, experience isn't a necessary tool in the copywriter's box.

I did find it amusing this ad asks me to "Find out how you can become part of this rising industry..." For the last three years, the only thing that's been rising is the rate of unemployed copywriters. No matter how avid a reader you are, the economy wins every time.

I'm old school about this, but I think you should have to pay more than $99 to become a copywriter. You should also have to pay your dues.

Unless of course you want to write ads like this for copywriting classes.