Get a job.

I was always working steady but I never called it art.  ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ Get a job I was always working steady but I never called it art Pre-save Fine Bone. --------------------------------------------------------------- You should know: [Honey Copy](=) is running an open-ended project where we will be creating a series of concept ads. We released our first ad yesterday for the [2024 U.S. Open](=). Advertising these days lacks originality, courage and flair. This is our attempt to light a fire under the industry's frozen ass. --------------------------------------------------------------- Franz Kafka once wrote a novella called Metamorphosis. Its premise is fairly straightforward. A man by the name of Gregor Samsa wakes up one morning to find he has been transformed into an enormous insect. Anytime I'm experiencing something of a transformation in my life or work––and wrestling with the fear that comes along with it––I think back to a line in that book... I cannot make you understand. I cannot make anyone understand what is happening inside me. I cannot even explain it to myself. I'm in the midst of transitioning [Honey Copy](=) from a solo copywriting shop to an actual advertising agency. For the better part of a decade, I have worked mostly as a lone wolf. Now that I'm putting together a "pack" so to speak, I'm finding myself in situations I've never experienced before. I'm used to charging into the void entirely alone, navigating the unknown through gut feeling. Intuition vs Wisdom Now that it's no longer just me, my maneuvers must derive from a place of wisdom rather than strictly intuition. If I fuck up, it's no longer just me who suffers the consequences. Gut feeling is incredibly inward. Because of this inwardness, it's selfish to a degree. Our gut feelings rarely benefit others. They're mostly––if not strictly––for our own benefit. It's a movement we experience deep within ourselves that helps guide ourselves in our decision-making. Wisdom, on the other hand, is outward. It's an Eagle's eye. It's a full-picture view of the landscape. It's a thoughtful consideration of how a single decision goes on to impact other decisions. Fortunately, I'm not relying entirely on my own wisdom. Partners-in-crime At the beginning of this year, I talked [my brother Conner](=) into joining my agency––now our agency. It is one of the best decisions I've ever made. He is one of my best friends and Honey Copy gives us an excuse to talk every day. He is also exceptional in all the areas I am not. Love them or hate them, you can't ignore the harmony of Warren Buffett and Charlie Munger's business relationship. Buffett once wrote the following of Munger... Look first for someone both smarter and wiser than you are. After locating him (or her), ask him not to flaunt his superiority so that you may enjoy acclaim for the many accomplishments that sprang from his thoughts and advice. Seek a partner who will never second-guess you nor sulk when you make expensive mistakes. Look also for a generous soul who will put up his own money and work for peanuts. Finally, join with someone who will constantly add to the fun as you travel a long road together. I adore this praise. What I adore even more, is that Munger immediately spun around with a rebuttal and wrote the following praise of Buffett... I think there's some mythology in the idea that I've been this great enlightener of Warren. He hasn't needed much enlightenment. I frankly think I get more credit than I deserve... if Charlie Munger had never lived, the Buffett record would still be pretty much what it is. It's hard to believe that he's getting better with each passing year. Everyone should have a partner-in-crime. However, we should treat the process of sussing out this partner with the same seriousness we would the process of discovering our future mate. Once you find your business partner, you two should shake hands and agree not to part ways until one of you bites the dust. I hope I go first. So I never have to live a day without my brother. Chasing Ogilvy All that to say, I'm slowly seeing my role transforming from strictly a writer to a creative director and agency head. My primary concern in this transformation is maintaining the creative integrity I have worked so hard to build while at the same time fostering the creative talent within the agency. It is one thing to teach yourself how to hunt. It is something entirely different to teach others; and to do this teaching in a way that inspires individual originality. I deeply admire David Ogilvy and what he built. His ghost has been my North Star throughout my entire career. However, he created an organization where he expected all his copywriters and designers to write and design exactly like him. You look back on that agency's work. It's brilliant. But, it's all the same. Gold standard I'm not interested in creating a factory. I want a nimble, highly creative outfit capable of producing versatile work. I don't want an agency of replicas but originals. Naturally, as I'm fostering this budding talent, I'm finding myself reflecting more on the early parts of my career. I feel my responsibility to my creatives isn't to tell them what art should look or sound like. Together we can decide if a piece of art meets the standard we have set at Honey Copy. The moment I tell a creative where I expect them to land is the moment we begin manufacturing rather than creating. I do feel it is my responsibility to help my creatives develop a healthy creative mindset. While this letter today is going out to you and another 26,567 readers, it's specifically written to two young creative talents I've recently hired, Jake and Nin. Blazing saddles I began my career not as a copywriter but as a carpenter. Well, calling myself a carpenter is a bit overly generous. My job was to go in before the carpenters. I would rip out all the carpet, roll it into enormous burritos that reeked of animal piss and haul them away to the dump. I would then tear any leftover nails and staples from the subfloor and sweep it clean. Once I was through, the carpenters would come in behind me and install new carpet or flooring. Some days I'd be assigned a job so big I couldn't tackle it by hand. So I'd ride on the back of this machine called a Renegade Floor Scraper. Weighing in at 2,150 lbs, the Renegade was as heavy as a bull and loosely resembled one. I'd walk it into a 5,000-square-foot commercial space, mount it, lower its guillotine-like blade to the ground and spur it forward. For the remainder of my days, I will remember the furious sound the blade made as it sliced its way to the concrete subfloor and then glided along its surface with the ease of a figure skater. As I guided the Renegade from one side of the building to the other, carpet would come up in ribbons, curling in on themselves like shaved Parmesan. Every once in a while, the blade would catch a bolt in the ground, behead it and send it shooting out from under it like a sniper round. Sometimes this metal would storm across the room with such velocity, it'd lodge itself in the drywall. I worked this job for the better part of a year while I wrote on nights and weekends. It was the greatest education I ever received, especially in regard to the creation of art. Clock in. Clock out. This hard-nosed blue-collar work taught me never to be precious about art. Be precious about it getting done. But, treat it like a job. Show up. Shut up. Put up. Then, get some rest and do it all again the next day. Leonard Cohen had a hell of a line that I recite to myself every other week... I was always working steady but I never called it art. I love art. I love both the word and what the word stands for. What I don't love is how folks treat it. Art is no different than a cabinet that needs building, a floor that needs laying, a wall that needs painting or a toilet that needs scrubbing. It's a job. A damn good job. But, a job nonetheless. If you can see your art as a job that needs to be done and if you can take this responsibility seriously, you can build a vocation for yourself that you yourself respect. Fuck the accolades. Fuck the applause. Fuck the audience. None of that shit matters. I know you think it matters because a lot of days I think it matters too. However, no amount of external validation will ever rival that feeling––that hallowed feeling––of having sacrificed a part of your life creating something that previously didn't exist. It's like sitting beside God in a pair of shitty lawn chairs, sharing a smoke, reaching in the cheap plastic cooler wedged between you, admiring the home you just built. It's like fucking the love of your life in a motel room as an invading army marches the streets. Art is the best job you will ever have. You just have to treat it as such. Welcome to [Honey Copy](=). I promise to leave you better than I found you. By [Cole Schafer](​ P.S. If you haven't yet, give [Fine Bone]() a spin. --------------------------------------------------------------- Can't afford the agency? Take the course instead. ​ ​[Honey Copy](=) isn't anything like the agencies in New York and Los Angeles who only know how to talk to people in New York and Los Angeles. My brother and I were born and raised in Indiana where we'd have dinner every Sunday with a grandfather who calls a chimney a "chimley". This shows up in the advertising we produce. We're creative, yes. We're original, yes. We're courageous, yes. But, most importantly, we're understood. We've created advertising for both roofers and physists and that ain't no shit. Unfortunately, we're not cheap. If you can't afford us, pick up a copy of [Snow Cones](). It's a short, sweet guide that will teach you how to write advertising that sells like a Florida Snow Cone Vendor on the hottest day of the year. [ENROLL NOW]() --------------------------------------------------------------- [[linkedin]​]() ​ [Update your email preferences]( or unsubscribe [here](​ © 2024 The Process 113 Cherry St #92768, Seattle, WA 98104-2205