Link courtesy of Bart Smith…

Bart Smith is an old friend from back in my Chicago days. Well before I moved west Bart trekked to Seattle, where he continued his audio production company, Bart Radio. (now bartplus) Anyway, he and I collaborated on some radio scripts I wrote for, including the one linked here about Vincent Van Gogh. Inspired by a popular biography series on TV, the spots featured the indelible voice of the now departed, Peter Graves.

I’m on the record as saying 90% of all radio sucks. But of that rarefied 10% Bart produced a great many. In 25 years in this business, so far I have written only a handful of radio commercials. The stuff was a highlight. Not only did I get to tell true stories about interesting people I got to tell them in a way that was uninhibited and fun, inviting people “to bring the art world into their world.”

They say radio is the true test of a copywriter and hopefully I aced it. I’m currently doing various freelance projects (content creation and creative leadership) and would love to hear from you. This is my portfolio. And if you’re looking for great audio production and a truly supreme collaborator, look up Bart. He’ll take good care of you.


Freelancing be dancing…

Forgive the delayed post.

In absence of full time employment, I’ve been working my ass off. If this sounds contradictory it is not. As any freelance writer will tell you, the hustle is as crucial as the creation. Unlike fat and happy FTE’s the freelancer must work to get work before he can work.

Ah, the hustle. It’s like the fisherman who has to both catch fish and sell them. Two jobs. Both with distinct roles and responsibilities. He rises early to fish. Stays up late to sell.

Same for me. Work the phones in the AM. Write into the wee hours. Get up and do it again. Call it hustle and flow. I’m not complaining. Just saying.

Though I am also dutifully searching for full time work (there are many birds in my nest!), I do find rogue satisfaction in being a grinder. The hustle keeps one alert. My sonar is on. Even the glimpse of silver beneath the waves and I turn to it. Lowering my bait. Jigging for a nibble.

The writing part I know well. Am good at it. Adore it. But after composing a manifesto for this client and writing content for that website, I’m just too fatigued to tend to my blog.

I trust you understand. And if you’re so inclined, hit me up. I will most certainly deliver. Spoken like a true hustler, right?

My portfolio:


Hopefully, I strike oil…

I’m writing this on board an American Airlines flight to Dallas, Texas, where I will be meeting some folks about a cool project. I haven’t been to the Big “D” in a long time. Do the locals hate their town being called “Big D” the way San Franciscans loathe the touristy expression “San Fran” or New Yorkers “The Big Apple.” If so, I’m sorry. And PS: I don’t blame you.

In any event, this excursion reminded me of my very first business trip EVER IN LIFE, to the same destination, where I’d been sent to present copy I’d written for Dewar’s Scotch Whiskey. It might have been a couple print ads – I don’t recall. But I do remember sitting in first class – an AMAZING perk of working at Leo Burnett during their AOR with United Airlines.

Though its unhealthy days were numbered, one could still smoke cigarettes on a plane –in designated seats (as if the smoke stayed there!). And I smoked and drank with impunity. Wouldn’t you? Unbelievably, though our flight was but two hours and change, they’d also served us a beef roast (steaks on a plane!) freshly sliced and plated by a stewardess, who, at the time, had no problem being called a stewardess.

Needless to say, those days are over.

In many ways that’s a good thing. Smoking and demeaning titles are no less attractive at 30,000 feet. But as I look up the aisle toward the front cabin from my current seat 24D, I can’t help but have fond memories. I’d missed the Mad Men era by over 20 years but at least I’d caught a last remnant of it then.

By the way, I’m offering my mad-loco copy and creative director skills at recession-era prices. Check out my portfolio. Find me.


Crazy good…

For the past few days, even longer, I have been working on a manifesto for one of our clients. Actually, I’ve been working on two. Even more actually, I’ve been working on manifestos for 25 years, since becoming a copywriter.

Nothing suits me more. For like many a creative soul, I am by nature a show off. And this is the way I can do it. I know I am not alone. Most copywriters get off on writing manifestos. At least they’d better. Writing such documents is at the heart of what we do, and can do, for our clients.

Most of you know what I’m talking about. For those unawares, a manifesto or mantra or anthem is the bringing to life in words the highest and most noble aspirations of its subject matter, aka the brand.

Yes, it is advertising copy but in the best sense of the word. Recall Apple’s great script to the modern world: Think Different. Consider the lines that first and forever defined Nike to a generation: Just Do It. We know these iconic tags because we fell in love with the manifestos. Frankly, neither line would have lasted this long, or even gotten out the door, if not for their beloved manifestos.

The power and glory of a brilliant manifesto cannot be overstated. They raise the hairs on the back of your neck. They make CMO’s smile. They win pitches. Most of all they change things: attitudes, behaviors, even lives.

At least the good ones do.

Alas, we’ve all heard or, God forbid, written our share of shitty ones. They can be purple or redundant or both. They get long pretty damn fast. They turn into cheesy rip-o-matics. Yet, in a weird way, even the bad ones sound pretty good. They are like pizza that way.


Because we slave over them. Into these haloed paragraphs we put everything we know or think we know about writing, about persuading, about life. Here you won’t find speeds and feeds, racks and stacks or friends and family. None of that. These are the best neighborhoods in Adland. No trespassing!

Author’s note: Because I have been busy writing a manifesto I had to refurbish this blog entry from a previous post.

Not just a TV show…

In my last post I made an argument for the idea that God exists using emotionally rational arguments aka copywriting. No psychic mumbo-jumbo. No beatific platitudes. No doctrine. I didn’t apply one single faith-based point in my brief argument. When I’m done, I wrote, you may still not believe in a higher power but you will be closer to Him, Her or It than you were before. I did this not to be a missionary but rather to make a case for my skills as a copywriter. In addition to being deeply interested in this topic, I’m currently excited to be looking for a new job and I figured this would be a good, if unusual, way to augment my credentials. While some people debated my arguments (unsuccessfully in my opinion) the tactic seemed to generate buzz as well as looks at my portfolio. Thank you!

For part two, I’m going to flip my position and attempt to dissuade you in the existence of a divine entity. Generally agnostic myself, it seems only fair I give the opposing view equal time.

To begin, I’ll employ a version of the same argument I used to make a case for the existence of God; namely that no proof exists on way or the other. Belief in God is, was and always will be faith-based. Therefore, all things considered, there is a 50% chance that God exists and an equal chance that He doesn’t. Maybe the shinier half is the contrary one? Atheists make an excellent point when they say God has never made a case for himself – that he had to be invented by people. The only reason, non-believers argue, that they have to refute God at all is because human beings brought him up in the first place.


Ask yourself: Why is it that different cultures have different ideas of God? The answer is because they each made up their own. There can only be one creation. That there are many wildly different stories prove that God is just that: a story.

Humans are the only creatures on earth aware of their mortality. In addition, we have plenty of time to think about it.  We grow fearful, haunted by our own inevitable demise. To mitigate this fear, we create mythologies that make sense of our time on earth. So we can tell our children, indeed ourselves, that we exist for a reason. That we are special. That, unlike beetles and slugs, we have souls. This is all quite romantic. And patently false.

Most believers insist that God “doesn’t make mistakes.” So, what do you call us? Our depravities and frailties are too numerous to name. As I write this, CNN is grimly broadcasting the details of yet another heinous act of terror, in Paris (ironically in the name of religion.) Human beings are hopelessly defective, particularly if you apply a God given moral standard. On the other hand, if you take God out of the equation, we are just creatures –apex predators- skirmishing for territory and resources.

God narratives keep society from reeling into chaos by asserting morality. God stories placate the elderly and young, dispelling the fear of death as being a cold, dark and one-dimensional ending. God is the story we tell ourselves to keep from going insane.

There. A compelling case for the lack of God and I didn’t even have to use the most commonly used argument, which is evolution. Evolution is real and can be proved six ways to Sunday. Even the smarter faithful have had to modify their God stories to accommodate it, naming God an Intelligent Designer. Well, I have always valued designers.