You don’t want to bitch. Seriously, you don’t.

Mike Lear, VP/ Associate Creative Director

We all bitch sometimes. Some of us love to bitch. It makes us feel better. But some of us bitch A LOT. And it moves beyond a release to a focus. It can become a way of life.

I’m sure some of you even bitch about this school. I did it. I bitched about my school. (But a side note on that…every graduating class has a small group that gets AMAZING jobs. So if you don’t get a great job, it’s not the school’s fault my friends – it would be yours.)

So let me try and persuade you not to bitch.

When creating work for your clients one day, your work will die and you WILL be asked to start over. And for really stupid reasons. And it hurts. It is the worst thing about our jobs. Last week I had five campaigns die at the hands of a client. Five. Five fully written, six scripts per campaign, really funny, interesting stuff, DIE. Dead. Never coming back. So you know what, I got pissed. Really really pissed.

So I had to work through it. And looking back, I realized my technique kinda worked. I opened up the spigot and let the venom flow. It’s the only way that works for me, and maybe it will for you. When I hear the news, I get angry. I excuse myself for an hour and get on my mountain bike. I ride hard and aggressive in the woods and let myself just be angry. If I can’t go riding, I go for a walk. I get out of the office though, for sure. And I think about my client being tortured. I think about my creative director losing his job and I consider punching my partner. I think bad things about my AEs. And I think about how my career is completely over because this work is dead. All incredibly dramatic to be sure.

After that, I’m still mad. But then I start to smile a bit. I even laugh a little. Because like Bruce Springsteen said, “When you’re writing music, when you’re in the moment, doing it, you have to think it is as important as curing cancer…but at the end of the day…it’s just rock and roll.”

But you have to mourn. You have to vent. JUST GET IT OUT QUICK. Right away. Do not wait. VENT.

And then, when I feel I’ve vented to the extent of ridiculousness, I think about what I GET TO DO NEXT. The new campaigns I have the pleasure of creating (in a now shorter deadline dammit). And I have to work hard to keep my anger in check. But, I think, “OK, I have an opportunity. A clean sheet of paper. I can make it whatever I want (within the new stupid-client-mandated constraints…easy, easy…check the venom…calm down Mike…). And how wonderful is that?” No really, it is. I remind myself that I get paid well to sit around sipping lattes wearing jeans and flip flops and talk about what I think could make a brand famous. I think about how the message I create for my client will be seen in lights across the country, and even more exciting…it could totally change their business. And when you forget that, have a talk with a guy who digs ditches for the county about his day. We have good jobs. Actually, we have great jobs.

So I start again.

And I work hard. And the best creatives in the country complete this whole process of anger and mourning and moving on faster than I do. The best creatives I know are resilient especially in those times of stress and pressure. And they are more prolific because of it. They are the champions.

So it’s up to you. You can deal, and move on. OR you can do what I see some people do: Stew. But please hear this. If you leave with anything from the few hours we spend together, hear this: Those who stew let the venom get to them. It eats away their energy. It evacuates their souls. And they become bitter and cynical. I’ve watched it happen to two of my friends. And guess what happened to both of their portfolios? They started to suck. A lot. Even worse than mine.

Aha. Now you’re listening.

Mourn and move on. It’s the secret to a long creative life.