“Woke up, got out of bed. Dragged a comb across my head….”
(Those Lennon and McCartney chaps knew how to write).
In fact, I do none of that. I slap the alarm for the 9th time, remove my girlfriend’s leg from my chest and, with blurry eyes, look at my 2am scrawling. Apparently I cracked a headline for Vodafone in the middle of the night. Looking at the pad —oh dear, no I haven’t. Oh well it’ll come. I don’t have to present it until 4pm.
I take the usual route into Kingly Street. The Courteeners are singing in my ear. (“you're too tired to eat, and you're too hungry to sleep,” — great lyrics.) I read a bit of Bill Bryson — nice easy brain food — and write an idea for my blog. I only manage 3 sentences for my screenplay — It’s hard to get inspired buried in someone’s armpit on the tube. So, it’s back to Bill.
I get in to the office at 8.30am and check my inbox to see how yesterday’s Surf scripts went down. Yep, the client liked them. Great, only 6 briefs to work on today. I catch up with Nadine (my Art Director) and we chuck an ‘Out of office’ sign on our door before sneaking down the fire escape for some peace and quiet. Sometimes ideas are available on tap - just turn it on and out they flow - but, for the other 99.999% of the time, they don’t. We go down to the basement of a coffee shop (no mobile reception - perfect) and after an hour of throwing words at each other, we emerge with some areas for Audi that might resemble a script one day.
We split. I go off to record some radio for BA; Nadine heads to a TV edit for Dero. We meet up again, 67 minutes later, at a review for a print campaign for Barclays I had forgotten about. Then a meeting about what the client said. And then another one about what the client didn’t say. Meetings about meetings. Lucky we escaped for that coffee earlier.
Then it hits me. (No, not John O’Keeffe with his pool cue). If I remove the ‘and’, swap the ‘I’ for a ‘we’ and flip the sentences, then that 2am headline for Vodafone works. Result. I get that little ‘I’m so pleased with myself’ glow. At the 4pm, everyone likes the new headline - apart from an account handler. (There’s always one).
2 hours of crossing the I’s and dotting the T’s on some body copy, to go with my new and improved Vodafone headline, and my phone rings with more students to see. I really like seeing students - it’s like a breath of fresh air. Sometimes it’s a bit London polluted - but mostly it’s fresh.
I go back upstairs grab my bag and head to the Mill for some post on a test film for KFC. (Who knows if the client will like it, sometimes you just have to make things happen.)
At 9.30pm I chuck the Courteeners back into my ears and think maybe I’ll write a song next — it’s all just words isn’t it?
I get home about 10.30pm and, on emptying my football kit, I spot that letter from the IPA. When’s the deadline? Tomorrow? Bugger. 180 words? No chance. Maybe I can use a witty quote: “I am sorry for the length of this letter, but I had not the time to write a shorter one.” Blaise Pascal.
Or just confess my insatiable love of words. Whether they’re printed or spoken, books or songs, websites or TV, I read, listen, and watch everything. I hope they’ll forgive me for waffling on; I’ve broken the third rule of copywriting — write to length. But hopefully I’ve achieved the first one — make it entertaining. Maybe I can just remove all the spaces?
Spell check (rule No.2).
Did I have lunch?