Uh, yeah, I have a question. Or three.

I ask “why” a lot. In part because I’m inherently curious. One of the perks of being in advertising is that I’ve learned about things I otherwise wouldn’t if I were, say, a donkey rancher. And I love when I get to work in a category or on a product I haven’t before — it gives me the opportunity to learn new stuff.

I also ask “why” a lot because, in our business, I believe there’s always a better way to do everything. I’m constantly looking to improve my work and myself. So I question motives. Methods. Outcomes.

That’s not for everyone. Especially the “we’ve always done it this way” types.

People are fascinating, weird, wonderful creatures. We’re constantly in motion. We’re reinventing our world and ourselves faster than we ever have. The advances we’ve made in technology, engineering and science over the past 20 years — from the invention of the iPhone to the discovery of the “God Particle” — is mind-boggling.

I recently watched a show about the making of National Lampoon’s Vacation. Chevy Chase was talking about the scene in St. Louis and said when he asked everyone to roll up their windows, that if you look closely enough, his window didn’t really roll up. He faked the reeling motion so the camera could get a clean shot of him saying his line. My seven-year-old, even my thirteen-year-old, would have no idea what he was talking about. They press a button. It’s a different world.

So why does advertising remain, largely, the same?

Because not enough people ask “why.” Not enough people challenge. As fascinating, weird and wonderful as we are, we’re also creatures of habit. Creatures of comfort — we know what we know. Selling floor cleaner? Better show a sparkling floor and a mildly attractive woman with a smile on her face.

I think comfortable is boring. And believe boring doesn’t get a second glance. It isn’t given a second thought. Ever watch someone read a magazine? They flip right past the ads because they all look and sound the same. That’s especially true in trade pubs. Selling cattle feed? Better show a nutritious looking nugget and a mildly attractive cow with a smile on her face.

A former colleague said, “You’ve got to get comfortable with being uncomfortable.”

That is something I absolutely do not question.

When is enough, enough?

Recently, I redesigned this site and am in the process of adding my latest work. Neither an easy task. The problem is I think a lot. About a lot. And scrutinize, and question, and wonder and worry. I want everything to be perfect. When I was sketching out layouts for this version of this site, I wanted my ability as a copywriter and a problem solver to take center stage — in other words, my work. Because I know, if you’re hiring me, it’s not because I won the “fun run” in 5th grade (true story) or because my dog is named Bacon (it was that or “Pizza”). Once I got the design worked out, that’s when things got tough. Really tough.

I had to figure out what work to show, how to show it and what to say about it.

Creative directors used to ask to see my 15 best print ads and a handful of spots. It wasn’t so hard to pick 15 ads when I only had 20 or so to choose from. But times have changed. The business has changed. And CDs aren’t just asking for print ads and some TV. My 20 or so ads have grown to hundreds of ads and a lot of those ads aren’t even ads. So over the next couple of weeks I’ll be adding more brands that I’ve worked on over the past 3 years.

Ultimately, when trying to decide what to showcase from my efforts as a copywriter and thinker over the past few years came down to one thing: if I saw somebody else’s name on this site, would I want to hire them?

I don’t know if I have shown too much work, but I think I’ve shown enough (for the moment). And I know if I were looking for a copywriter who can do more than write, someone who's passionate and curious and sometimes ridiculous, I’d give me a shot.

TLDR; I think a lot. And think that thinking, in advertising, isn’t such a bad thing.

Identity crisis?

I’m an art director. I’m a copywriter. A traditional creative. A digital creative. I’m in production, account service, account planning, public relations and traditional and social media.

I’m also in the minority.

Every time I see a classified ad for a digital art director, traditional copywriter, digital account planner, etc. I’m reminded that as much as our industry likes to talk about progressing beyond the conventional model, it is still largely built upon silos.

Don’t get me wrong; I believe our business needs specialists. But while specializing in one thing, they should know and be open to all things.

As an art director, I’d much rather spend my time kerning than programming. But I know enough about different platforms and technologies so I can have intelligent conversations with developers and programmers about bringing an idea to life. However, I wanted this site to look and function very simply, to not over-shadow the work, but to make it happen I had to write code. That’s not the important part; the important part is that I’m up enough on HTML to know what code needed to be written.

Can someone please explain to me why a “traditional” art director can’t design and layout a website or why a “digital” art director can’t design and layout a print ad? Anyone? While you’re at it, I’d also like to know what, exactly, is a digital copywriter. And digital creative director. Why can’t a social media or interactive campaign come from the mind of a “traditional” creative? It can. And it should.

The best time to be in this business is right now. Though, I felt the same way 5 years ago and the 5 years before that. I’m a geek for advertising and thus a geek for technology. I’m excited by all of the tools and toys we get to play with every single day — and the promise of more to come. Today it might be smartphone app or smartly executed board on Pinterest. But tomorrow? All I know is that I’ll keep my eyes and ears wide open. And my pencil finely sharpened.  

Yes, I still use a pencil. And that probably puts me in the minority as well.