Growing up, I had a very romantic idea of creative work.
I thought about the things I loved and considered their creation.
I imagined George Lucas etching the script to Star Wars in stone, and then going out and making it.
I pictured Jerry Seinfeld just showing up on set and turning it on once the cameras started rolling.
I assumed that’s how creative genius worked.
Whether it was Shakespeare or The Beatles or any work that has stood the test of time.
You show up, flip the switch and lay down perfection.
Greatness was about catching lightning in a bottle.
One single moment of creative spark that arrives fully formed.
What became concerning was, this wasn’t anything at all like my creative process.
I would meander, make mistakes, start over, doubt myself, pick myself up.
The doubt grew louder and louder.
Maybe I just didn’t have that intangible “it.”
Of course, I was only looking at work on the surface and judging the final product.
I needed to go deeper and see how people made creative work.
This is exactly the crash course I would get at Wieden+Kennedy.
The advertising agency famous for making Nike ads.
Campaigns like Spike & Mike, Lil’ Penny and Hello, World sat on my creative top shelf.
There was something about them that were iconic.
They were examples of creative excellence.
I started out in Wieden’s ad school and could go right to the source.
Susan Hoffman was my first creative director.
She was tough, but she was also inspiring as hell.
What I quickly learned from her is that work gets to a high level by constantly pushing.
The actual creative process is messy, chaotic and impulsive.
The details of a great idea don’t all arrive at the same time.
But what does that mean?
It means that when something bothers you, you do something about it.
Maybe the logo doesn’t sit right.
Maybe the cropping of a photo feels off.
Maybe you just wrote a better headline in your head.
Maybe the VO is missing punch at the end.
It could be anything.
If something is off in your gut, speak up.
Stop the process.
Put how you feel into words.
Even—especially when it’s uncomfortable.
To let things slide that don’t fit your taste is to drop the ball.
When you are a creative, you are a guardian of quality.
Your job is to raise the bar.
Not turn a blind eye.
Susan taught me this lesson over and over again.
One time we were working on a simple brochure.
It was already at the printers and ready to deliver.
But I had worked out a layout and line I liked better.
I showed it to Susan and then she reached out to the producer.
Stop the presses.
The producer was not happy.
The deadline for changes had passed.
But Susan stood firm.
The changes needed to be made.
Unhappily the producer relented.
The job was finished.
The lesson was learned.
Over my career these uncomfortable moments marked the time.
It’s a constant clash of creative vision and the limits of time, space and budget.
But the job is to push.
Maybe especially when it’s not popular.
You don’t have to be a jerk about it.
You can stay diplomatic and professional.
Over the course of a project, there are tons of decisions to be made.
Maybe each one makes the project 1% better or worse.
If you keep on all those details, you can turn an average project around.
I’ve learned more about how my favorite things were made.
It was never, ever a straight line.
George Lucas toiled, restarted and scrapped Star Wars for nearly a decade.
Jerry Seinfeld is a perfectionist workaholic who needs every word to sit perfectly.
The Beatles toiled, experimented, played around and worked hard to put it on record.
The work is never finished.
And every moment and pang in your gut is a chance to step toward your vision.
Ignore these internal calls at your own peril.
It’s true whether you’re working on a social post a sixty second commercial or a feature film.
The work and attention to detail remains the same.
There is always something you can do to make it a little better.
The road to mediocrity is paved in convenience and efficiency.
The road to greatness is long and winding.
Realize this and you’ll be ready when the choices come.
The first step is realizing you have a choice.
Make it better.
Or let it slide and move on without you.
If you do the latter, you’ll build a creative career full of regrets.