I remember you well.

Forgotten fables, chance encounters and elevator joy rides.  ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ Chelsea Hotel #2 People who sacrifice beauty for efficiency get what they deserve ​ --------------------------------------------------------------- PSA: When I'm not writing poetry, I'm writing advertising. If you'd like to hire me to write for your brand, just drop me a line over at [Honey Copy](=). Otherwise, pick up a copy of [Snow Cones](). --------------------------------------------------------------- I've spent the better part of July in Manhattan, writing from a rented flat that sits a block away from the Chelsea Hotel. I walk past it nearly every day and like to pretend that some of its creative energies rub off on me. Before the Chelsea Hotel was renovated into the luxurious hotel that it is today, it was a cheap, shabby Victorian dollhouse that served as a temporary home to Bob Dylan, Jimi Hendrix, Iggy Pop, Jackson Pollock, Andy Warhol and Jack Kerouac. Leonard Cohen––a long time resident of the Chelsea Hotel––told a story about him sharing an elevator with Janis Joplin. After a brief moment of the customary silence one might expect on an elevator shared between two people, Cohen asked Joplin if she was looking for someone. Tongue in cheek, Joplin said Kris Kristofferson. Cohen smiled wryly and responded, "You're in luck, I am Kris Kristofferson." Five minutes later, they were in bed together. Cohen would go on to write of their brief love affair in the gorgeously heart-breaking song Chelsea Hotel #2... I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel You were talking so brave and so sweet Givin' me head on the unmade bed While the limousines wait in the street Later in the song, he writes of Joplin's untimely death... Now but you got away, didn't you babe? You just turned your back on the crowd Those lines kill me every time I hear them. They kill me now as I read them. I've always been an outspoken proponent of the potent powers of placebo, particularly in regard to the creative process. Most of creativity is showing up, siting your ass in a chair and doing the work. From my experience, the muse does not whisper in the ears of the sloth. However, another facet of creativity we don't talk about often enough is placebo. Not so much sugar pills but setting. There is an old fable I adore that speaks to the beauty in our imperfections. I also think it serves as an interesting metaphor for this relationship between setting and creation. It tells the story of a boy who made his living carrying water from a river. He slung a long bamboo pole over his shoulders and hung a bucket from each side. The bucket that hung from his right side had a small crack in it and as he walked, the water would trickle from this crack. By the time the boy reached the man who purchased his water, the bucket on his left side was full while the bucket on his right side had lost several quarts of water. The man would pay the boy, deducting the water lost, and the boy would then make his long journey back to the river where he would refill his buckets once more. One day, the leaky bucket said to the boy, “I am sorry that I am not without cracks like my brother. I know the loss of water causes you to make more trips.” The boy was quiet for a time, breathing heavily as he labored up the face of a hill. Finally, the boy pointed to the dry Earth below the leaky bucket. When the leaky bucket looked down, he saw a string of wildflowers on his side of the trail that stretched from the river as far as the eye could see. Finally, the boy spoke up, “The water you have spilled has made my daily journey more beautiful.” In my mind, the wildflowers are the setting. They're not going to sprout legs and carry the water for the boy but they're certainly going to make the water a little more bearable to carry, if not provide a bit of inspiration along the way. In [Meet Cute](=), I teach my students to romanticize the setting in which they create. This gives the place energy; energy that perforates the creative work. I've done much of my writing this trip from a long, slender wooden table that sits in the middle of my flat beneath an enormous paper machete chandelier. Despite its malnourished appearance, it's sinewy as a back alley mutt who has had to fight, tooth and nail, for every one of his meals. It's battered, bruised, gouged, nicked––it appears to have been burned and badly in several places––and one of its corners has been hacked off like an infected ear in the rare instances it must accommodate a seventh dinner quest. Natural light pours onto the table, painting it in a yellow rectangle and so for most of the day, I write on the side furthest from the windows. As the passing of day erodes the sun's intensity, I slowly work my way down the length of the table until, come evening, I'm writing from the other side. I've written twenty-five poems from this table––one of which I recently shared [here](=)––and gobs of advertising. As I've mentioned many times before, I run a creative writing shop called [Honey Copy](=). In addition to actually writing for brands, I see much of my responsibility as being a creative incendiary of sorts. Something that enterprises often overlook is exactly what we are discussing here today: Setting. Companies have forsaken in-person connection for the sake of efficiency and while they might be saving money, they're beginning to see the effects on their creativity. Tom Robbins, the brilliant author behind Still Life with Woodpecker, has a quote that I love... People who sacrifice beauty for efficiency get what they deserve. Brands lack a great deal of originality these days. I'd argue its because they're having creative brainstorms over Zoom. I don't mean to sound crass but a virtual creative brainstorm is like phone sex. It might get the job done, sure, but don't tell me it's anything like the real thing. This is why setting matters so much. It not only moisturizes the creative process, it gives the creative person an endless well of material to pull from. Stephen King once said that a writer can't be a writer unless they read; and voraciously. I would argue that a creative can't be a creative––on neither an artistic or enterprise level––unless they're actively participating in life. If Leonard Cohen doesn't stay at the Chelsea Hotel, he never steps into the elevator; and if he never steps in the elevator, he never makes small talk with Janis Joplin; and if he never makes small talk with Janis Joplin, he never climbs in bed with her; and if he never climbs in bed with her, he never writes Chelsea Hotel #2. And what a sad world that would be. By [Cole Schafer](​ P.S. New art coming Friday (please remember to [pre-save]()). --------------------------------------------------------------- Tiger's blood, anyone? Write better copy in the time it takes you to eat a snow cone ​ This is a short, punchy, ridiculously sweet guide with a title as long as a French Aristocrat. Snow Cones full name is How to write words that sell like a Florida Snow Cone Vendor on the hottest day of the year. You see now why I've shortened it. Unlike so many of the enormous 70+ module courses that drone on forever and then some, Snow Cones gives you a swift rundown of simple, highly-actionable copywriting lessons and principles that you can begin applying immediately. [HAVE A LICK]() --------------------------------------------------------------- [[linkedin]​]() ​ [Update your email preferences]( or unsubscribe [here](​ © 2024 The Process 113 Cherry St #92768, Seattle, WA 98104-2205