So, I’ve been a copywriter for twenty-jsdhvfkcfjb years now. And as a forty-svfbsiwebf-year-old copywriter, I’m experiencing something of a mid-career crisis.
I’m wondering, what’s the point of it all?
Why did I opt for art college and a creative degree when I was better at science?
Why did I choose one of the hardest industries to break into? One where you’re only as good as your last ad (which wasn’t very good BTW).
Why did I choose an often frustrating, largely thankless pseudo-creative career when I could’ve been a fair-to-middling engineer doing something vaguely useful for society?
That sort of thing.
And as I look out of my window contemplating the scudding clouds and career suicide, I look back and wonder if it’s all been worth it. What have been the highlights?
Have there been any? At all?
Sure, there have been some awards. And some successful pitches. And some ‘sexy’ brands. But honestly, I’ve never really been interested in that stuff.
What else? C’mon, there’s got to be something.
Helping some worthwhile charities do some good.
Doing some pro bono work from time to time.
Oh, there was that time in London, on the tube, when I watched a guy reading the newspaper (if you’re under 30, a newspaper is what we used to read to find out what was going on in the world) as he turned to a page featuring a half-page ad I’d written. A long-copy ad. He flicked past it. Boo! But then turned the page back and read the whole thing. Yay!
That was cool.
Anything else? Anything I’m proud of?
I remember a tiny little quarter-page ad I wrote as a junior copywriter. It was for a youth disability charity desperate to recruit support workers (nothing changes). It was another copy-only typographical ad – they didn’t have enough money for anything else. And while I’d only been a copywriter for a matter of months (I was regularly getting my arse handed to me by senior writers who were reviewing my work), I thought I’d done a good job.
Anyhow, I sent it off to the account manager and crossed my fingers.
A little while later one of the junior account execs ducked into my little cubicle in the creative department with a big smile and whispered, “You made H***** cry!”
Who was H*****? She was the hard-as-nails account director who, if you’d asked me, I would’ve said didn’t possess tear ducts let alone the ability to cry.
I made someone cry! In a good way!
And even better, the ad worked. The charity got more CVs than their team could handle.
I don’t have a copy of the ad, but I remember the feeling. And I guess that’s what it’s all about.
Yes, we spend a depressing amount of time selling shit nobody really needs and not enough time with good clients doing the good stuff. Yes, we rarely get the time or opportunity to show what we can really do. And yes, sometimes we have to work with awkward clients, ungrateful clients, or egotistical and fundamentally insecure clients who seem hellbent on making life miserable.
But every now and then, if we’re lucky – if we get a helpful client, a decent brief and a following wind – we get to do something special.
Something that makes someone smile or laugh or cry or talk or think or do something we believe in.
Something that feels good.
And maybe that’s enough.
Or maybe I should write a terrible novel that nobody will read, just like every other copywriter having a mid-career crisis.
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