Ad Caulk

That's about what happened when I came across Dorm Room Tycoon. It was everything I meant this blog to be, and so much more. It was started because three guys were disappointed with what they got in college and has evolved into something wonderful.

They have interviews with people of all stripes. People who I've thought about reaching out to but haven't. People who I never even imagined accessible. People like Luke Sullivan, Mr. Hey Whipple himself. A tweet of his introduced me to the site.

The interviews are a bit Herzogian. The hosts never speak too much, they let the interviewee spew out more information than he may feel comfortable with. Every interview I listened to is well done and imparts a bit of wisdom.

This ordeal is a sobering reminder that I haven't been taking my own advice as much as I should. That I haven't been brave enough with this space. Brave enough with the outside world.

In about a week I'll be graduating but the blog isn't going to stop. There are still people out there in sub-par terrible ad programs. People who want to learn but don't know where to start. There's also so much room for growth with Ad Caulk. I'll always need a place for thoughts and exploration.

There is no reason you shouldn't watch this. Settle in with a warm drink (or cold drink depending on your location) and let the wisdom wash over you.

The biggest qualm of most creative people is having their "babies" killed. I'm hoping one of the things this talk helps with is making people understand how to sell work. If you a truly in love with an idea (not always the best thing) you must know, or surround yourself with people who know, how to sell it.

via Ben Kay.

It doesn't have to be yours. Perhaps it shouldn't be. But finding and developing a voice is crucial when you're a writer.

This week, George Saunders came to my campus to do a reading and lecture. Both were very informative about his writing process and his process of becoming a writer.

Saunders admitted that he was, "not very well educated as an author."His background is in geophysical engineering and he happened to fall into writing around the time he turned 30.

He also worked jobs in slaughterhouses and other unwriterly pursuits. So for his entire writing life he's been working with a flawed set of tools. That's what sets him apart from other writers. He said the most important thing for young writers to do was to go somewhere they can learn a special language.

He recommended working in a factory, law firm, or (surprisingly) an ad agency. He said the tropes you pick up in these places can be the foundation of your writing voice. He beckoned us all to "go out into the world." To experience things. To feed our writing with real life.

One of the (many) problems with advertising is that it insists on talking to itself. Creatives largely try to show off how hip they are through their work, irrespective of whether or not the audience is going to like it. The language in ad agencies is the same as the stuff we see on TV.

Too bad that's not the majority of America. It would do us all some good to get out of the agency and just talk to people. Maybe spend a day on the weekend doing something completely not advertising. I'm thrashing a little bit here but I just haven't been able to get over this advice.

There will be more posts about Saunders to come. His advice is as good as any I've received while in school.

Additionally, Saunders said he always has four things out on his desk at any time. That way he doesn't have to ever confront a blank page. I thought this was a pretty cool approach and plan to try it in the future.

My two favorite quotes.

"So we just went ahead and tried."

"I didn't know what you couldn't do. I didn't deliberately set out to invent anything, it just seemed to me--why not?"

If you don't believe Richard Feynman or myself, here's Orson Welles on how good ignorance can be. It's thanks to ignorance like his that we have ceilings in movies. Ceilings! For a long time I've thought that refusing to do something The Way Things Are is the best way to go about work. There's always a better way, a way that makes more sense.

Instead of sitting around browsing through Ads of The World all week you could try to make something you way. That alone will make you interesting. As Dave Trott says, "It's more important to be interesting than right."

Thanks to Ben Kay for finding the video.

Up until the 50s the international shipping industry was roughly unchanged. Drivers loaded up their trucks, drove to a port, and waited. They waited for hours as the crew unloaded the truck one parcel at a time.

This didn't sit well with Malcom McLean, a driver from South Carolina. Not only was he bored senseless sitting there, he was frustrated. His livelihood depended on getting as many shipments as possible.

So he started looking for alternatives. At first he thought about loading trucks directly onto the ship. This wasn't very effective because it wasted space and vehicles. Then he saw what the military was doing with containers. And thought to adapt it for commercial applications.

The first ship went out loaded with 55 containers. The rest is history. McLean's went on to be the first shipping company traded on the New York Stock Exchange. Not bad for someone who never went to college.

That's the power of turning frustration into action. McLean could have been nothing more than a grumbling truck driver. But rather than accept things the way they were he saw the way they could be.

It's thanks to him that yesterday's luxuries, such as fresh fruit year round and all sorts of wonderful imports, are today's norms. That's probably why our grandparents chuckle when they hear about the "new" locally sourced trend.

Although Malcom McLean didn't know it, his frustration lead to something that changed the world forever.

Identifying something that doesn't work completely right and figuring out a solution is powerful. The need to fix things, to find a better way, is innate. It's so easy to complain that something is broken and do nothing.

Diagnose, then act. It's the only way to get something done.

Seems like a simple enough question. You work for someone, they pay you. But that's not how it always works in the world of internships and ambassadorships. It was the subject of conversation on the latest BeanCast (Episode 196) and is still a topic very interesting to me.

Of my three internships I have been paid by only one (it was the best one, mind you). The other two were not terrible, I certainly learned a great deal. But I know for certain one was illegal (check out this page from the DOL if you don't know how to spot one of those). At the other it was a mixture of paid and unpaid interns and I am not quite sure on the legality of it.

I don't feel bad about not getting paid. Most of it was my fault for not thinking I was worth money and being so grateful to be working in advertising. What I can tell you is that getting paid for your work makes you much more loyal and much more appreciated.

When you are paid you feel you owe a debt to the company you're working for. They expect you to do AT LEAST as much work as they're paying you for. There can be no expectations when you're working for free.

If you do end up taking an internship that is cash-strapped make sure you're getting something for it. Experience, while nice cannot ever keep you warm at night. If the company has shares ask for payment that way, ask that they pay for your meals. Something, anything that is going to make you feel compensated for your work.

Above all, make sure you know what you're getting into. If not the exact job you're doing then the type of culture the business has. Nothing feels more rotten than working for rotten people, for free. Trust me I know far too much about this.

There are plenty of good things that come from any internship. Even the bad ones teach you what you don't want to do later in life. Even people who hate their jobs are usually paid.

In my opinion unpaid internships are more destructive to the general workforce than the people taking part in them. A certain amount of privilege needs to exist for someone to be able to work for free. To do one living outside of your parents house is almost unfathomable to me. Even couch-surfing can only save so much.

Having a job on the side is also unrealistic to me. If I have an internship that is my job. I'm throwing everything I have into producing amazing work. Having a job on the side only undermines what you approached an agency for: real, hardcore advertising experience.

Of course it’s up to every individual to determine the worth of unpaid gigs. But if you take one you’re essentially saying, “my time, and effort, are worthless.”

Are you worthless?

There are few athletic feats I am really good at. My involvement in sports teams was the, "get in there. there's no way you can screw it up now," type of thing. I was decent at karate but gave that up long ago. My single athletic skill is juggling.

Thing is, juggling isn't really athletic. If I had someone three balls I can tell in two throws whether they can actually juggle, or they're just coordinated. It's all in the eyes. Someone who can juggle can look through the pattern at you. The person who can't will chase the balls with their eyes.

This is because juggling has everything to do with muscle memory and very little to do with seeing. I once met Steve Mills, inventor of the famous Mill's Mess trick. He could toss balls over his back and catch them with his eyes closed. He's THAT good. And has trained enough to know exactly where his hands need to be.

My old juggling instructor used to tell us that if we can see the top of the arc we will always catch the ball. To teach us he made us progress through one, two, and then three balls until we could do 100 patterns without dropping. And his instruction still rings true for me today. If I can see the top of the arc my hands know where to be. 

Muscle memory.

What we do in advertising is the exact opposite of juggling. Mental muscle memory is just about the quickest way to become a hack. (Man Men's joke on "Cure for the common ____" comes to mind). What I try to do is forget what an ad is supposed to be. It's common advice that trying to make an ad is the surest way your ad will fail.

What works is trying to solve a problem and letting the advertising come out of that. You can even invent the problem (see: halitosis) but the ads should be offering the fix to something. Every product is different so having a process really doesn't work. At least not for me.

Assuredly someone will disagree with this. But I know the advertising I like and try to model my own after is often devoid of process.

What it doesn't lack is solid thinking and hard work.

If the government should ever declare pulp and pens illegal, consider me a junkie. I would pace alleyways nervously whispering, "You got a uni-ball? Alright, alright I'll even take a Bic crystal. Anything you've got. Quick man! Quick!" After receiving my prize I would pull open the package while fumbling for the notebook in the folds of my jacket. And then, too soon, the ink would run dry and I would be at it again.

It's not that I hate computers. If you know me well you're more than familiar with gazing at me over my laptop screen. Laptops are the best tool for getting the job done. But if an idea of mine is any good it's a good bet I have it on paper. More of my blog posts have started as the scribblings in the margins of notebooks than as pixels.

It is centering to write something down. Writing, especially my penmanship, has the tendency to fill a page quickly. Much more quickly than it can fill the void of a computer screen. There is also a bit of magic of seeing the words erupt from my hand. As though my brain is leaking ideas out onto the page.

Thankfully my job as a writer does not depend on a computer. It might annoy Art Directors* if I handed over headlines and body copy scribbled onto scraps, but it wouldn't mean I wasn't doing my job. It would, however, be inconceivable for someone in design to not use a computer. That doesn't mean you should loose connection with the tactile.

The problem is that as hard as it is for me to imagine NOT using pen and paper, it's hard for some people to imagine NOT using a computer. Technology is a great crutch that makes it really hard to identify whether an idea is good or not. Holding up a pencil rough and asking whether or not it works is a great test.

Pick up a sheet and try it. If you don't like it that's fine. The first hit is free.

*Alright, it would REALLY annoy them.
Link via BrandDNA

It's been a while since I last blogged. I did some tumblring but that not really the same thing here. I'm not sure why I haven't come up with anything to post. Or why i didn't just force myself to sit down and bang something out.

Today I got George Lois' new book, and a kick in the pants. By chance I happened to randomly opened to essay 98: "A single day without work panics me. How about you?"

Honestly, it is a bit frightening to not work. And the worst part about not working is thinking about not working. Watching the minutes in a day tick away while I toil aimlessly looking at tweets, tabs and videos. Hopelessly searching for inspiration when the only inspiration that matters should come from my own head.

The worst part about this whole thing is ignoring my own advice and the advice of so many I respect. The most important thing to do is think and write, even if it's not good at first.

Hopefully I don't forget THAT and fall back into a rut again. It feels as though my rust is showing.

This is hardly one of my best posts but it should get me back into the practice of writing regularly. A practice I have missed very much. Thanks for bearing with me.

Weekly Linkly is back. As is—dare I say it—good work! I've seen more good work this week than I can remember in a very long while. Here's the business:

• A recently revived Sell! Sell! post about the quote "All progress depends on the unreasonable man."

Can't put my finger on what I like so much about this ad. I've watched it 5 times and still want to watch it again, so it must be good. Thanks to AdVerve for the find.

• The Ad Contrarian scientifically dissects the industry in Neuroscience and Pseudoscience.
• Briefs. We've all complained about what they shouldn't be. The San Francisco Egotist decided to get some opinion about what they should be. (bonus Sell! Sell! tweet as a sidecar)

The new Axe ads remind me of the great series Errol Morris did for High Life. They had me, for a brief moment, consider picking up some Axe body wash next time I'm at the store. The moment has passed. See the rest on Ben Kay's blog.

• A modest proposal by Vinny Warren: Make Love, Not Virals

Google's Project Re:Brief. Any lover of advertising has to be teeming with jealously over the googlers getting to work with these ads/creatives.

• Dave Trott's advice on how not to be like the rest of everyone. Hint: don't be so scared of risk. (Bonus riff on the subject by Seth Godin)