Book Design by Anna Kasnyik
“Junior creatives in the fledgling stages of their careers are reading about the economic impact of the industry, overseeing global campaigns, changing the world through 360 campaigns, but not how to write the ad for the brief in front of them. This book is written by somebody who is definitely still in it and still figuring it out.”
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Amber Schaefer was otherized at a young age, which provided her with the perspective to recognize the comedic potential in “normal” things. Her time doing sketch comedy then gave her the vocabulary to discuss what makes something funny with future creative collaborators. Amber discusses how the combination of both serves her well in her roles as director, actor, writer, and comedy person and also offers lessons from the comedy world that would serve the creative industry and the one thing she wants to see more of in 2019.
Read MoreBill saw an opportunity for big publishers and brands to benefit from his skillset and experience. Thick skin? Tight deadlines? These aren’t simply occupational hazards for a writer, reporter, and editor. They’re job descriptions.
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Illustration by Jack Teagle
“Art is hard. It’s hard whether you’re doing it full-time or not, but it’s also a big part of who you are… Shed your romantic ideas of who gets to be an artist, reconnect with why you started in the first place and bring that into your life in small, deliberate ways.”
Read MoreFor Episode 6 of Season 2, host Justin Gignac chats in the studio with writer, designer, and co-founder of MyTransHealth, Robyn Kanner. There's a lot of sincerity and beautiful insights to take away from this conversation. You will learn that it's okay to be messy. Not in an organizational sense, but messy in the decisions and mistakes you make. None of us are unique or special in our struggles. Once you embrace who you are and feel comfortable with your voice, it will transform your work.
Read MoreCedar Pasori seamlessly weaves between editorial and brand writing, having recently finished an editorial stint at Nike. As Cedar puts it, “It helps to have writers who come from true editorial, storytelling backgrounds.”
Read MoreIf you're a writer, you're most likely currently struggling to make sufficient progress on a project. If you're a writer and you don't struggle, get in touch with us so we can share with others how you bottled that magic. WNW Member Brittany Poole knows that for most of us, external and internal distractions do what they do and get in the way. Which is why she started hosting Local Writer's Retreats out of her creativity-tailored home in Santa Monica. So to the 99.9% of writers: What are you doing this Saturday?
Below, we talk to Brittany about this latest endeavor. In 2015, she co-founded HUSH, a database of the world’s best spots for a digital detox. So she's essentially an expert on combatting distraction. "Most creatives, myself included, are already masters at putting barriers in their own way. We like to make things black and white. Like, one day I’ll be so rich, I can quit my job, get a villa in Tuscany and finish that novel. When really, you could start this Saturday. It just might not be as sexy. So I felt like a local retreat could help bridge some of those barriers for people and eliminate some of those excuses."
What separates Brittany's eight-hour retreats are the minimal price tag (which includes lunch, a happy hour, and a fresh, bottomless mug of coffee), and the no-bullshit simplicity. (There are no critiques or unnecessary lectures.) She has a space that has helped fuel her creativity and she wants to share it. "The Local Writer’s Retreat is super personal. People are making a commitment to themselves to show up and put eight solid hours into their work (whether it’s a screenplay, an article, a standup set, a blog post, or even just some personal journaling). It’s their time. So I don’t really have a lot of rules, except maybe don’t blast the Black Eyed Peas through your headphones. Rihanna’s probably fine though."
Sign up for a retreat this Saturday, or one (or both!) of the two that Brittany is hosting in July. You can use the code 'WNW' to get $10 off if you sign up for this Saturday's retreat before Friday.
I'm an advertising creative and brand consultant, currently freelancing in LA. I cut my teeth at Crispin Porter + Bogusky, working on campaigns like JELL-O Pudding Face and Burger King’s Whopper Lust, before heading off to Saatchi and Saatchi London. Like most creatives in advertising, I like a constant buzz of side projects to soothe my creative soul. So I also recently began hosting one-day writing retreats out of my house in LA.
Honestly, chasing the perfect coffee shop around LA is the pits. You’re spending tons of money on coffee, only to quickly realize people are staring you down for the table. Or else you get caught eavesdropping on some Hollywood drama for two hours and then spend the next two hours tweeting about it. We all do that, right? :)
That said, I’ve experienced firsthand how inspiring and effective a writer’s retreat can be at catapulting a project forward. It’s amazing what you can do when you physically remove all other distractions. Also, I’m just obsessed with my house. I realize that’s an obnoxious thing to say. But the space is so bright and calming and I’ve found it easier to work here than anywhere I’ve lived before. So I wanted to share that with other people.
It’s basically like an adult study hall that you pay for. It’s intentional writing from 10:00 AM to 6:00 PM, with a thirty-minute break for lunch. No critiques or unnecessary lectures. Just an experiment to see what people can get done when they commit real time to their writing. (Lunch and an afternoon happy hour are included. And there’s always plenty of fresh coffee in the kitchen.) Other than that, it’s all about the work.
Historically, writers have always been holing up in the woods to get words on the page. So a retreat is really nothing new. They can be incredibly inspiring and rewarding. I’ve just found that nowadays, the retreats you find online are in exotic places with a very high price tag.
Sadly, most creatives, myself included, are already masters at putting barriers in their own way. We like to make things black and white. Like, one day I’ll be so rich, I can quit my job, get a villa in Tuscany and finish that novel. When really, you could start this Saturday. It just might not be as sexy. So I felt like a local retreat could help bridge some of those barriers for people and eliminate some of those excuses.
The week before, I’ll ask all participants to write down their hopes for those eight hours. Then, they break those down into hourly goals. We’ll share those goals at the beginning of the day for a bit of accountability, and then we get to it.
Otherwise, the Local Writer’s Retreat is super personal. People are making a commitment to themselves to show up and put eight solid hours into their work (whether it’s a screenplay, an article, a standup set, a blog post, or even just some personal journaling). It’s their time. So I don’t really have a lot of rules, except maybe don’t blast the Black Eyed Peas through your headphones. Rihanna’s probably fine though.
I also encourage people to wait until after lunch to get the wi-fi password. If you need it earlier, you have to ask for it out loud. A tiny bit of sadistic peer pressure on my part. But it keeps people thinking more intentionally about their computer time, and I’m just trying to help!
Ha, there is definitely a trend there. I can’t say a life void of technology is something I strive for. I’ve just always been pretty bad at multi-tasking. (I don’t really believe anyone’s made for multi-tasking, but that’s probably a discussion for another day.) So I think both HUSH and these writer’s retreats come from a place of being more mindful of how you’re using technology and where you’re putting your time. It’s like when kids used to take Adderall in college and then accidentally use all that focus on five hours of Facebooking. Creative energy is such an ebb and flow. I just like helping people be more considerate about where they’re directing it.
1. Writers are dreamers. So we love fantasizing about the final goal. The screenplay becomes a box office hit. The novel earns its place among the classics. The blog has advertisers throwing money your way, and then you get to explain to all the dummies at your high school reunion what a “social influencer” means. These dreams are visceral and delightful. But if you can put that same romanticism into just getting 2500 words on a page, imagining how great that would feel, then you can start to chip away at the actual goal.
2. I think we lie to ourselves a lot. We say we’re going to get up at 6:00 like Hemingway and write every morning, when in truth, we’ve only ever done that once in 2013. So this year, personally, I’ve been calling myself out for those kinds of blatant lies. Instead, I’ve been trying to honestly acknowledge when and how I’m most efficient. I guess that doesn’t totally answer the question. But I think if you can reflect on those things more honestly, you can maximize your own progress. So you can admit that writing in the morning isn’t your thing. Or working from home isn’t your thing. Or even that working on a solitary project for months on end isn’t your thing. Then, you can optimize whatever it is that does work for you.
I’m currently working on a writing project about my grandmother and her philandering ways. Recently, I’ve gained enough confidence to call it a novel. So I guess I’m working on a novel about that.
I love taking classes when I can. This last year, I took an acting class for voice-over talent, which was a lot more nerve-wracking than it sounds. You can hear every mouth noise in that booth! I make a lot of gluten-free treats and force people to say it tastes like the real thing. Let’s see. I spend a lot of time traveling back and forth to Nashville to see family. I also enjoy gardening and emailing random bluegrass bands to see if they need backup vocals, so far to no avail. Call me!
I just finished Big Magic by Elizabeth Gilbert. It’s a fantastic read for creative minds. She points out how paralyzing it can be when everyone’s telling you to pursue your passion, especially for artists and writers. And she offers permission instead to “explore your curiosity.” It’s such a lovely phrase because it softens that calling and lets you get down to the business of making stuff—without knowing where it might lead. It’s a really refreshing book. I wish I could give it to everyone.
Yes! We still have a few spots left for our retreat this Saturday (June 3rd). And you can use the code: WNW to get $10 off if you sign up before Friday!
"Hi Stranger. It's been awhile..." And just like that, we're finally reunited with a noseless, clothesless and waxy individual we never realized we were missing
Read MoreIt's important for a creative to have a space that's actually conducive with being creative. Sometimes this can just mean a big desktop, some framed inspiration, and an ergonomic chair. But WNW Member and copywriter Brock Kirby decided to go about a thousand steps further, well beyond adding a new bookshelf or some air-purifying plants: he built his own writing shed.
Brock tell us the whole process took about a year. He had been considering going freelance for a while, and the writing shed was a big part of that dream. Now he freelances, from his backyard. In our interview below, Brock admits that he got a big boost from his father-in-law. "He’s a master builder; that’s not just hyperbole, that’s his official title. He’s incredible at what he does and basically built the entire thing. I held the other end of the measuring tape and made runs to the hardware store, but without him I’m sitting in a prefab. He’s a saint."
Obviously, not everyone has the space or energy or father-in-law to construct their own creative shed. But Brock has some priceless advice that should help everyone up their creative levels. "Have a designated drawer for your phone and keep it in there most of the day. Other than that, just have fun and wear sweat suits."
I’m an Oregon boy. I graduated from the University of Oregon and went out to JWT New York for a couple years, but Portland was calling me back. I landed in a pretty sweet situation at Wieden+Kennedy and learned from the best in that beautiful building. And now, freelance, in my backyard.
I had been considering freelance for awhile and the shed was part of that dream. I love my 1-year-old and 4-year-old kids very much, but I knew I’d need a quiet space away from the Thunderdome that is my house.
I looked at a ton of pre-fab units, but realized my father-in-law and I could probably do it better and cheaper.
The cedar ceiling. In the process of building it we decided to extend it to the eaves out front. I love that it brings the outside and the inside together.
The whole process took about a year. We poured concrete summer 2015, started framing in Spring 2016 and finished the whole thing by end of Summer 2016. We did the majority of the work on weekends and evenings, so just finding the time was the biggest hurdle.
I took some college level engineering classes in high school and worked as a general laborer during the summer for my father-in-law. He’s the one with the skills. He’s a master builder; that’s not just hyperbole, that’s his official title. He’s incredible at what he does and basically built the entire thing. I held the other end of the measuring tape and made runs to the hardware store, but without him I’m sitting in a prefab. He’s a saint.
Books and a couple comfortable chairs. I’ve left some space on the shelves and walls to remind myself that I still have lots of time to fill it with cool stuff.
1: Write
2: Read
3. No fantasy football.
Have a designated drawer for your phone and keep it in there most of the day. Other than that, just have fun and wear sweat suits.
Agency work, short films, the shed itself. Now that I have this big personal project out of the way I can move on to the more cliché ones, novels and pilots and such.
Seriously, get yourself a really comfortable sweat suit or five. At any moment you’re ready to write long copy, do calisthenics or sprint after the godforsaken cat that keeps digging in my fall vegetables.
Getting work published in The New Yorker is a dream for many writers. WNW Member Marco Kaye was on the phone with his mom when their email came through: "I didn’t even tell her right away. I guess I wanted to play it cool--something I am terrible at doing, by the way--and it felt surreal. I think I was shaking." Now Marco's a regular contributor to The New Yorker's "Daily Shouts," and is nearing the completion of his first novel.
Marco tell us why he branched out from copywriting, and how the processes of copywriting and creative writing, while similar, require the flexing of completely different muscles. He also offers great advice for aspiring writers: "You need to make sure something is right before you send it out. You need to take a piece of writing all the way. Writers are so eager to be published. And now anyone, anywhere can be published instantly, on so many forums. But I think there is long-term value in the quiet, difficult work of shaping self-started projects over the course of weeks and even years. This writing comes from deeper waters."
It's clear that Marco basks in the solitary writer's struggle that intimidates so many: "I rent my own office space in Hoboken, which looks like a 50’s gumshoe detective office--frosted glass door with my name in gold letters--and I love it. Being alone is food for the true writer. Instead of office parties, you party everyday with a demon called Your Mind. Less chips and guac, more anguish and fun."
I wanted to be an English major at UVA, but I didn’t get in, so I “rebelled” by majoring in Art at my state school, University of Delaware. While there, I discovered a great program called Visual Communications. Though we technically trained as art directors, I am color blind and my classmates always squinted whenever looking at one of my designs. Writing came easier for me. My first real ad job was for Jeff Kling, back when he was at Euro RSCG. Then I worked at Wieden Portland for four years, and then I moved back to NYC to freelance and go back to get my Master’s in Creative Writing. I put rebelled in quotes because my parents were like “go for it.” Years later, when I told them I wanted to write novels they were like, “That’s awesome. Do what you want to do.” I’m like, “Don’t you want to question these moves at all?”
When I started working at Wieden, I became serious about creative writing. Just before getting a job there, I had my first piece accepted on McSweeney’s. Something about the agency’s atmosphere, along with Portland’s bookish culture (sometimes I would walk through Powell’s City of Books on my lunch break just to get from Couch to Burnside), made me want to continue writing. Kevin Jones introduced me to the whole idea of an MFA. I had never considered it before. Once I got accepted into NYU, I realized my goal was to see if I could work on fiction that was longer than four pages. Three hundred and some pages later, I’m almost finished with the novel I started there.
And yes, I am constantly freelancing! I really love freelance to jump SWAT-like in and out of projects, and still find time to devote to writing.
Lawrence Weschler, one of my NYU professors, asked me if advertising was fiction or nonfiction. I really loved this question because it is hard to answer! On one hand, you’re aiming at some truth. Thoughtful brands want to be authentic. On the other hand, fiction needs to be there to surprise and entertain. Writing short humor (i.e. for New Yorker or McSweeney’s) is very similar to advertising in that you start with a clear, simple concept. The writing process means following and seeing what surprising paths it can take you down. Colin Nissan and Mike Lacher are amazing at it. Both are also copywriters.
Writing a novel or short story uses a completely different muscle than advertising. First emerges a character, feeling, image, or environment. And then you’re focusing on language, the way to express it all. Then a situation. An idea is maybe the third or fourth most important thing. You put ideas out of your head and shuffle around in darkness to find the light switch.
I waited a long time to approach The New Yorker. I wanted to create something that felt like it could be right for them, versus tossing an idea their way and seeing if it stuck. So it felt validating in that sense. I was on the phone with my Mom when their email came through and I didn’t even tell her right away. I guess I wanted to play it cool--something I am terrible at doing, by the way--and it felt surreal. I think I was shaking.
Now, I want to finish my novel and get it published.
You need to make sure something is right before you send it out. You need to take a piece of writing all the way. Writers are so eager to be published. And now anyone, anywhere can be published instantly, on so many forums. But I think there is long-term value in the quiet, difficult work of shaping self-started projects over the course of weeks and even years. This writing comes from deeper waters. I discovered a poem in Zyzzyva, a literary magazine, by Aliza Rood called “Print Into the Bruise.” What a great title. Write where it hurts. Print into the bruise, even if you’re writing comedy. “Mistakes,” she wrote, “are little cakes I’m baking.”
The human panoply bound within this island is the best. I write down things people say. I peek over shoulders at texts. The other day, I passed a woman talking on her phone outside of a pizza place. “Second of all,” she said into her earbud speaker, “my Mom’s dead, so if she called you that would be really surprising.” I don’t take that and stick it into a novel, but I feel the need to jot it down. You have to feel the rhythms of the way people talk. You need to create a whole catalogue of gestures and observations you can pull from at any given moment.
Oh, remember a few answers up how I talked about having a “clear, simple idea”? Well, that was way misleading. My ideas always come out half-formed and mangy. In fact, I mistrust an idea if it doesn’t change somehow in the writing process. For “Announcing MyIlluminati,” I had the thought, “I am President of the Hoboken Illuminati.” That seemed funny to me, this vast conspiracy had more day-to-day foot-soldiers. But as I started to write it, I immediately saw how small the idea felt. So I changed it to a way to get involved locally, not matter where you live.
As for style, that feels like something almost beyond my control. You write from the center nougat of your chocolate-covered interests. You see where it goes from there.
My favorite writers are Lorrie Moore, Sam Lipsyte, Martin Amis, Karen Russell, Vinnie Wilhelm, Philip Lopate and Simon Rich. If that seems like a lot of idols, I welcome a vast list.
In my novel, Remember the Damps, I speak to a highly fictionalized version of my early-twenties self. I would tell my main character, Reed Ellis, what I would tell myself: you are better than you think.
I rent my own office space in Hoboken, which looks like a 50’s gumshoe detective office--frosted glass door with my name in gold letters--and I love it. Being alone is food for the true writer. Instead of office parties, you party everyday with a demon called Your Mind. Less chips and guac, more anguish and fun.
To anyone in design or advertising, I would recommend Lightning Rods by Helen DeWitt, The Ask by Sam Lipsyte, Ride a Cockhorse by Raymond Kennedy and The Mezzanine by Nicholson Baker. All are amazingly funny, extremely perceptive stories.
If you are making work that matters to yourself, the greater chance that work will matter to others. And that’s an amazing place to be.
