You’ve been working on a nightmare brief for the last four days. It’s been a dog and so far you’ve come up with zero. You’re staring out of your office window and slowly but surely the panic begins to set in. It’s getting dark, down below you on the street outside people are going home. The meeting with your CD is booked in for 9am tomorrow and you know it’s going to be a long, long night.
God knows you’ve tried everything to break out of the creative drought and kick-start your brain. Some of the highlights of the week include:
6 packets of Marlboro light,
1 Harry Hill DVD,
19 visits to the agency pool table,
1 visit to local bookshop,
343 mint imperials,
24,056 Google searches.
1 drive to Brighton Pier.
All this has resulted in nothing more than a headache over one eye.
Now, the moment has come. You make a few final preparations, order the pizza, phone your loved ones and prepare to enter a mental state that will propel you into glory.
The process begins with long periods of silence. You and your creative oppo take turns to look out the window. The aroma of pizza and coffee linger around the room and slowly but surely both of you start nodding off. Occasionally long periods of silence are interrupted by shouts of ‘What if’. All ideas seem like crap. You go for a walk around the agency to see what it looks like in the dark. You bump into the cleaners and say hi but they don’t speak your language.
Pretty soon you start thinking about going home, but you can’t. So your brain’s survival instinct kicks in. Suddenly shit ideas look ok. And ok ideas look good. You and your oppo are now busy pinning ideas over the walls until all walls are covered.
Panic is now upon you. You start pacing up and down like an expectant father. Your instincts tell you to run away. To run as fast as you can. To run anywhere. A man from security puts his head around your office door and asks how long you think you’ll be working. You weep at his feet.
It is now past midnight. The road outside is quiet and a strange feeling of euphoria sets in. You laugh at everything. In fact a half decent idea seems like the most brilliant thing in the world. Then suddenly you’ve nailed it. It’s such a genius idea. It was there all along. Staring at you. Mocking you.
Just the product and the logo - so simple, so clean.
You pat each other on the back and call for taxis. Quickly you draw up the ideas and lay them out on the meeting room table. Finally you grab your stuff, throw on your coat and head home. The lift doors open. The security man, deep in porn, waves you goodnight. You both step outside and take in the cool night air - then your oppo looks at you. He has that look of concern. A look you’ve seen before.
"Ah fucking bollocks and shit" you say to yourself.
Next you let out a long sigh, turn, and head back.
John Fountain is a freelance copywriter
Follow @fountainjohn
