Creativity, Johnnie Walker, and secrets in our DNA...

I’ve always thought of myself as a creative.

Even when I wasn’t being creative, or thinking creatively, or acting creatively, the idea that I was absolutely a creative was never far away from the front of my mind. Or the middle. Or the back.

I didn’t have to convince myself.

In the same way I didn’t have to convince myself that occasionally, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get away from behaving like an arsehole.

It came naturally.

It was in my blood.

My mother told me once I was nothing like my father.

Sometimes it was hard not to agree with her.

My father, as far as I knew, didn’t have a creative bone in his body.

He had lots of alcoholic bones.

But no creative ones, as far as my mother was concerned.

I took that as a good sign.

Someone, somewhere, had big plans for me. Creative ones. And they didn’t involve Johnny Walker or Lonnie Donegan.

Decades later, when my mother had put this life behind her and ceased all bodily functions, and my father had ceased all parental ones, I persuaded myself to go into advertising.

It was a good move.

The only time I looked back was to see if my father had picked up my trail and was following me.

Then I realised that he had no interest in doing so, and was more interested in following his own trail.

That was when I realised that he was possibly more interesting than I ever gave him credit for.

And that’s when I realised that my own creativity probably came just as much from my mother as it did from him.

The thing is…

As we grow up, we try to carve a life for ourselves out of the things we say, or do, or need, or dream about, or aspire to…when all the time we forget about all the things that were put in place before we even had any say in the matter.

We think that we carve out our own path.

We think that all the decisions we make are ours to begin with.

What utter bollocks.

We forget about the magic marrow in our bones.

And the secrets hidden in our DNA.

We forget about the two people who came together, for better or worse, richer or poorer, in sickness or in health, and made a little fat person. Which they did.

We forget about till death do us part, which it did.

And we forget about the decades spent in creative departments, learning from others how to write copy.

And not succeeding very well.

And the years spent after that, learning from others how to write books.

The jury’s still out on that one.

You see…

It takes a while before you realise that creativity is a million miles away from anything you thought it would be.

And it takes a while before you realise that all the shit you learned didn’t just come from the space between your ears.

Some of the best shit, and the worst, is just hanging around on the edge of the dancefloor, waiting for you to show up with your best damned moves…

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The above is an extract from my as yet unpublished (and mostly unwritten) book Ad Interruptus.

Like its sisters Ad Lib, and Ad Infinitum (NOW AVAILABLE), it's about creativity, advertising, life, and lots of stuff in between.

You'll find Ad Infinitum, Ad Lib, and Ad Hoc on Amazon, along with my other books, Love & Coffee and Heaven Help Us. In print and ebook. Waiting for you.

And the wonderful thing about all three Ad books is… it doesn’t matter where you finish any chapter or episode.

Because it will always be pretty damned close to where you started it…

Ad Infinitum: https://amzn.to/3pof7Uq

Ad Lib: https://amzn.to/2kd4LKf .

Ad Hoc: https://amzn.to/2Nx8GL8

Love & Coffee: https://amzn.to/28IWaHq

Heaven Help Us: https://amzn.to/2nkQ1Jk

Grab a coffee, grab a chair, and grab a sneaky peek.

Then grab a copy...