Scott Thomas, also known as Simple Scott, was the Design Director who helped to get Barack Obama elected as American president in 2008. Scott is not your typical designer, that much is true, although the typical designer should certainly be more like Scott. He’s an incredibly articulate and clear thinker heavily influenced by architecture, modernism and the human experience. All of which make his work completely utilitarian in the best way possible; people seem to interact with the websites he creates and the communications he’s published in an astonishingly involved way. But aside from all that intellectual hoo-hah, Scott is a totally gracious bro from Chicago who knows his shit more than most. How to live life better, how to find meaning in your work, what to do when things aren’t working, how to have friends and still have a fulfilling career… At least all the stuff we were dying to know, cause, you know, if it’s good enough for Barry Obammy, it’s good enough for you.

Junior: Scott, something’s been bugging me about this ‘successful career’ thing for a little while now… How do you have friends and still find time to indulge in the deep-thinking and hard-work a ‘successful career’ requires? Especially when you’re young.

Scott Thomas: I think it’s important to understand time. Everyone is in a rush. Many people don’t spend time enjoying things and living in the present moment. With work, when there are those times that you can’t take it any longer, you have to step away from it. Go do something fun, go hang out with your friends.

However, I also feel in those same instances where it’s important to walk away from your work, it’s important to walk away from everything else for a while and just work. That’s where true concentration comes from. Concentration is hard nowadays; it’s becoming more and more difficult. iPhones are constantly buzzing, emails always coming through, YouTube clips to check out, Facebook messages popping up all over the place–you don’t really want all that distraction. In order to be truly successful and do something well you have to shut off the outside world for a while.

Jr: But how do you do that if your friends are persuasive people?

S: They’re persuasive, but you don’t let them persuade you.

Jr: So can I tell them to fuck off?

S: No, you shut them off. You close everything. You turn off your phone. You go out on the weekend and tell them, “Guys, I’m not going to see you for a week because I have to get stuff done. I’m not going to be accessible by phone and email and I won’t really respond much so… c’est la vie.”

Ideally, go someplace that doesn’t have internet. Then you can spend more time concentrating and working. It’s an ebb and flow. I’ve never really lived in NYC but I can imagine living here would be hard–I’m only here for a week or so once every couple of months and I don’t stop when I’m here, I’m constantly moving. I can see how NYC could be a distraction. But your network can grow vastly very quickly, especially if you can do something well.

Jr: New York is a great place to come when you are young and be social. But it’s not such a great place when you want to sit down and focus and do some work, especially work that is going to get you somewhere other than work that is just going to pay the bills.

S: Right. I think that’s the balancing act. For me I’ve always seen creatives struggle with it–”I’m going to go to New York to become famous!” No, you’re not, you’re going to go there and struggle paying for an apartment and struggle with your career. If you’re doing things well and you come here, and you already have some things established, then I think it’s the place to be. It’s just like everything else.

Personally I have a season where I don’t do anything. I hibernate in the winter. I keep in very mild contact with my friends, but it’s good for me. I need to be secluded when I work.

Jr: Have you always been like that?

S: Yeah, I studied architecture in college. Luckily the architecture studio is a quiet place. Typically I wouldn’t work there during the day, but I’d go there at night from about 7pm-3am. I’d spend hours working at night, and that was so helpful because I had no distraction, and no outside influence. If I have people around me I want to hear what they have to say.

Jr: Ah yes! I suppose that’s the difference between an office job and working freelance for yourself. At an office you have to deal with all the people around you and the politics that go with it. But when you’re freelancing, you get up in the morning, sit at your desk, and it’s just you. You have the decision whether you do work or not. There are no excuses.

S: I think that’s one thing that it definitely does–it allows you to form your own mind. I think the disease of a corporate environment is that you get stuck doing whatever they demand you to do. You’re a task man. You’re a yes man. You’re stuck in a world of checking things off the list your superiors are telling you to do, rather than following your passion, your desire, and asking the questions you wanted to ask.

Jr: Then again, you need mentors, and motivation, and a firm kick in the ass if you don’t have a sense of urgency in what you do.

S: I think the trick is to have close friends that you work with that will give you that kick in the ass, that will push you, inspire you, and drive you. Doing something completely alone–there is no real way to get a good product in the end. In order to grow you need constant influence at a young age. Constantly adding fuel to the fire.

Jr: So how did it happen for you? On the way here you were saying you studied architecture then dropped out?

S: I didn’t drop out so much, I kind of switched. I transferred and went to Iowa State and found that graphic design interested me. I didn’t know why, but I felt that architecture was too engineering based, too structural and not artistic enough. I wondered if I needed the freedom that graphic design was going to offer me. It was a difficult challenge for me early on, and I found that I actually needed a math problem and some structure. That’s why the web made so much sense to me. I started building websites pretty early on, in 1998.

Jr: Is that what you do now? Mostly web stuff?

S: I’m very web focused. I did the Vote for Change website. I created the architecture concept and worked with the developers to do it.

Jr: So you never did print?

S: Of course I did. The thing that got me jobs was that I could open up Photoshop and I knew branding–I’m a very multi-faceted designer.

Jr: Although it’s probably one of the most hirable skills at the moment–having web knowledge.

S: It is, but even more so if you’re also a real designer. Not only can I make your website work, but I can make it look good.

Jr: Where did you go after you finished college?

S: I was really unsatisfied just doing graphic design and I didn’t really enjoy it. I wanted to explore, so I went to London for almost a year. I didn’t really have plans when I went, I ended up working in music distribution.

Jr: Putting shit in envelopes and sending it to people?

S: No, I designed CD covers, cases and packaging. Brand stuff. It was a good chance to allow me to explore. But I wouldn’t claim any of that work to be good stuff in my eyes. I was an intern so I was getting paid, you know, crap. I also worked at a pub. It was an experience that kind of altered my perspective on things. It was the first time I was in a different culture, and I realised that there was a big world out there. After that, I went back to Iowa where my family is from.

Jr: Did you have anything to show for it?

S: Not really, I mean, I had a new haircut and wore fancy clothes. I was on a completely different planet when I got back. The people in Iowa knew that. My mind was completely on another planet. I was only there for six months or so. It was hard. It was a culture shock. I had serious anxiety from not wanting to be there, you know, I went back to fucking Iowa. The coolest thing there is cornfields and hay-bales. I tried to work on small bullshit projects freelancing to save up some money so I could get out as soon as possible. The best thing about it was after that, I was never the same person. I become instantly clear as did my understanding of everything.

Jr: What changes?

S: I think it’s the reality that you can go anywhere and do whatever you want to do. You can say, “I can do it, this is my future, I’m going to do it,” and not blink.

Jr: Yes. That stage where you realise you’re in complete control of the rest of your life.

S: This brings up an interesting subject of lucid dreaming and many people’s fascination with being able to control their dreams. Why would you want to control your dreams when you have complete control of your life?

Jr: Many people think they aren’t in control of their lives; that life is continually swirling in a vortex of other peoples shit. But they completely are in control–it’s just a matter of perspective.

S: Totally. You get stuck by the system. You’ve got all these forces telling you that you have to do this and you have to get a job and you have to work in a cubicle and this is life. “This is life son, welcome.”

Jr: Were your parents like that?

S: No, I was lucky. They supported me. I think that they realised early on that I had my mind made up. I told them I was going to move to Oregon and go to school, and they looked at me like I was crazy.

Jr: Why was it crazy?

S: Because it was so far away from them.

Jr: They didn’t have to financially support you at all?

S: I think that was the problem, I was paying for a bit of it and was realising how much it was costing me.

Jr: Most parents these days seem to be happier with whatever you do as long as they don’t have to pay for it. Which can be harder in some ways because you need that.

S: That support?

Jr: Yeah.

S: Especially when you are beginning to realise the necessity of money. Try as hard as you want to fight it, at the end of the day, you need it.

Jr: A lot of money when you’re a kid turns out to be nothing when you’re older.

S: I try not to think about money as much as possible.

Jr: London is more expensive than anywhere though. How did you cope there?

S: Again, you don’t think about money.

Jr: What about when you get into debt?

S: Think about how you are going to pay it off.

Jr: So what did you do when you moved from Iowa?

S: I moved to Chicago. I met some friends who invited me to come live with them, so I did. It was right downtown and I loved it instantly. My roommates were great, they were creative, and it was nice to be around people who were constantly doing stuff. I worked for quite a few years in user-determined design at IA Collaborative, analyzing all sorts of things. Everything was very focused on user experience, mostly products. Not online.

Jr: Solving human problems, rather than wondering where to stick the logo?

S: Yes, absolutely. It wasn’t focused on stylizing. For me it was very focused on the sort of stuff that you look at and think, “Wow, that’s so simple, why didn’t I think of that?” Analyzing those things and how they work. Trying to innovate new solutions. It made me dive deep, it was very immersive, an all encompassing job.

Jr: That’s the sort of education people need for solving problems.

S: Oh absolutely, it taught me so much–I learned a lot about how to approach user experience design. Now that I consider myself a user experience designer, a lot of people say, “What the hell does that mean? What do you design?” I want to design the entire experience and not limit myself to one chunk, one part of it. I don’t want to just design the logo, I want to design the bottle, the product, the packaging, the experience of when you open that door at the convenience store–I want to control all those senses. I think that’s my architectural mind coming out as well as branding, communication, design–everything.

Jr: Maybe that’s more design thinking than architecture?

S: Not necessarily. I think great architects want to have the ability to design everything in their space. Everything makes a huge impact. I personally believe that architects want to control the entire experience.

Jr: Is architecture the next step for you then?

S: Yes, absolutely. For me it’s a personal thing, it’s where my mind is most of the time. When I go away I draw more buildings in spaces than anything else. I take notes on places; how the height of a stair affected me. I think that way. It’s natural. That’s why the internet and what is happening technologically is another area I’m successful in and I think that my brain works well in.

In the same way that an architect connects spaces with one another, a web/interaction designer is connecting how our interactions connect with one another. As a web designer you’re not designing a poster. In fact, I’m not sure I could even design a poster anymore, I just don’t have that mind. A web designer is constantly creating a connections within a page, then from one page to the next. It’s far more of an experience and a way-finding device than anything else, so you have to be good at directing people to where they want to go.

Jr: What do you think is the biggest failing of most online user experiences that you see? What are some good ideas for kids when they get an digital brief and they want to make it better?

S: I think the biggest problem is being stuck in the creative conceptual realm. The web is not a place to explore conceptual artwork. It’s just not. Personality is not necessarily something you want to inject into a website. They’re utilitarian. They are there to supply you with the ability to find information, gather information, and then leave. There are obviously some sites where you can be more conceptual but the truly powerful sites in our web world today are utilitarian, like twitter and Facebook and YouTube.

The reason they are popular is that people can use them. They can use them very effectively as a means to an end. I’m gathering all my friends here and I can upload a video and share it with all my friends, or I can find any book in the world. That’s what the web is today.

I also think it’s important to stay away from projects that are just bad ideas. Sometimes I struggle with that when someone wants to pay you, but when you start knocking it out you see the site is never going to go anywhere because it’s a bad idea. That’s always hard. I bet the same occurs in architecture.

Jr: Probably. Maybe the same occurs in everything.

S: I’m not sure why I think architecture is the next general step for me, I think it’s also due to the fact that after the Obama campaign it’s really hard to take on a project that has that level of significance and importance. I’m really not sure if I want to take on that level of importance again or do something that big again.

Jr: What was the importance? That it changed the direction of the United States?

S: That and the design of the campaign. I don’t think that design has ever been done like that in politics. We focused more on trying to do things right, and quickly, and make things look good, and look right. Rather than just making things.

Jr: What was the difference on the Obama campaign? Why was that so different?

S: Because of the way the organisation was structured. We didn’t have a top-down organisation, we had a bottom-down organisation. Lets take choices of typography for example. If we started to use Gotham, it wasn’t like we had to go and speak to our bosses who had to then ask Barack. Obviously Barack Obama has no thoughts on typography. I go home and have wet dreams on typography so clearly they are going to trust me on that decision; they’re too busy to think about it anyway. So if I was to write a report on why I wanted to switch from Gill Sans to Gotham, it probably would never have gotten read and it also would have been a waste of time.

Jr: Is that what usually happens?

S: I feel like in most corporations you have to justify all of your reasons and ask the person above you so you don’t get fired. There’s all those systems in place. I hate the word ‘systems’, because it also means boxes, and coffins.

Jr: So basically they just trusted you to do the right thing, and it was pure luck that you were incredibly good, otherwise it might not have been such a success.

S: Ha, yes, I guess you’re right. Although I’m sure they wouldn’t call it luck. You know, I think it’s important to understand what the power of design is. The power of design is not saying a single thing but communicating a whole lot. If you’re a writer the best sentence you could write is probably the one with the fewest words possible. If it communicates everything you want to say in the smallest number of words possible that’s what you’re reaching for.

Jr: Simple is better.

S: I call myself Simple Scott, so of course I agree with that.

Jr: How simple can we get? How do you choose between using a typeface? Something as simple as that?

S: We can’t go into something that specific straight away. We need to talk about what simplicity is. The important thing to understand about simplicity is you need to dive deep into the complexity of the situation.

It takes one person to think about all the complexities in order for true simplicity to be derived. That seems crazy right? You have to dive to the edge of oblivion before you know what’s going on. I think that’s true. I think that you have to do the largest amount of analysis before you can make the most simple and elegant solution.

Jr: So you’re saying before you worked on the Obama campaign you knew everything about him and his policies and everything he was trying to achieve.

S: During. It was a constant process of learning. You’re not going to be able to know everything about everything. But you need to know a little bit about what the problem is. Like the voting process. The notion is that voting registration in the USA is a complex process. You need to think about what the problems you’re trying to solve are. Then once you know and understand that, you try to make the most elegant solution, then walk people through the process.

Simplicity is a difficult thing to wrap ones mind around. The only things that are simple are the things that are truly empty, that are truly void. The second you start adding a second variable it becomes complex. The design of a spoon is really complex when you boil it down. Something as simple as a spoon requires a lot of knowledge and understanding about human needs and the way we do things.

I think the beauty of simplicity, the reason I call myself Simple Scott, the reason I chose to make that my life’s work, is because I think it’s something that I can be constantly challenged by for the rest of my life. I can spend the rest of my life making things simpler and never get bored. I think everyone should find something like that. You think about some of the greatest minds in existence, like Albert Einstein, who was trying to take two theories and bring them into one basic idea, one unified theory. He never really reached it, but I don’t think he was ever really bored.

Jr: That’s right. Being constantly challenged. Which is a problem for many people who get a job somewhere and end up working 9-5 for ten years and not being that happy.

S: It happens all the time. People getting bored as hell or living out somebody else’s dream.

Jr: For many young people, especially those reading this interview, thirty seems like the roof in career terms. From your experience, can you offer any advice on how you put yourself in the perfect position so you can continue to grow and challenge yourself?

S: I have two plants in my house. One is a spider plant, and the other is something I can’t remember the name of. The interesting thing about the second plant is I bought it the week that I started at the campaign. It was a real little guy with four leaves. I bought it because I wanted to watch it grow. I knew that by working on the campaign, I was going to grow too–the plant was a representation of my personal growth. A plant doesn’t grow in a set path. It grows based on where the sun is, how much rain it gets, how much water it receives, how much attention it is having. All these elements play into the plant’s growth. It applies the same to us. If you take this as an analogy for the question, you don’t know which way your leaves are going to grow until they grow that way. It’s important to respect that, appreciate that, and to not look too far ahead into things.

Often times we want to have the answer to where we’re bound to go, but the truth is, we’re just here. If you spend your entire life living in the future you’re never going to enjoy the present and you’re never going to enjoy now. Then when all of a sudden you don’t have anything in the future to look towards, you don’t know how to appreciate the present. You become a sad old man. So I would suggest that everyone lives like a plant.

Jr: Sometimes things just happen, much like when you switched from architecture to design–you just know it’s the right thing to do at the time. And now with architecture, you’re about to begin on that journey, but who knows what strange and interesting places it will take you.

S: I might go back and teach for the rest of my life.

Jr: That could be the calling. I guess you need to leave it open for that.

S: Everyone needs that understanding and appreciation. I have a hard time with the notion of committing to anything at the present moment, and I think it’s because I’m really enjoying now. In the past I spent so much time living in the future that I started to forget why I was excited about life.

Jr: Well it sounds like you’re in a pretty great spot existentially now anyway. But how do you get there? How did you get there?

S: Time. Flow. I just got back from Japan. I was in Japan for two months. One of the things that I learned and really appreciated, and I learned a lot there, was this notion of master. Sensei. The notion of apprentice vs master. The difference between doing things as young people and old people. Sometimes we lose sight of that. We don’t want to listen to our elders or someone who has been in it for a while. Obviously it’s a double-edged sword, but our masters here are jaded by the fact that no one will listen to them. In Japan though, they are respected, welcomed and embraced. They’re able to flourish with it as well. I like that dichotomy there, the notion that the master is getting something from the youth that he teaches and the people that he teaches are getting the lessons of a lifetime. It’s a very structural society. They deal in hierarchy all the time. At a meeting everyone puts their business cards on a table and they’re ordered by who is more superior. It’s very structured.

Jr: So would you say structure is a good thing?

S: I don’t think Japanese people would consider it a good thing. I just think it’s interesting. I don’t think it happens here in the States. I think there’s a constant wanting to trump and to be better than.

Jr: It’s a good reason to get out, see different cultures and do different things, because for others something else works.

S: Yeah totally. I’ve never been in a society that was that much of a utopia. You could set your laptop on the table and walk away, and it would still be there. There’s no crime. There’s such a regard for the other person that that just doesn’t happen. Even in a place that is so dense. We’re talking about half of the people in the USA condensed into the size of California. But because Japan is so mountainous they only use 20% of their country. The rest is basically uninhabitable. Isn’t that crazy?

Jr: It certainly is. And you went there on sabbatical, which is another interesting topic. Your mentors told to go or your head might explode.

S: Yeah, people were telling me my head might pop off. Obviously after you do something really large like the Obama campaign, you know, take on a really big project and you accomplish it, after you cross that thing off the list, which for me a was an item that said, ‘win this fucking thing’, once that was checked I had no idea what to do next. I knew I didn’t want to go to Washington DC. I was offered a job at the Whitehouse, but I knew I wasn’t the right guy, though I would love to help the democracy further. I don’t think that it was the right time for me to help my country in that way.

Jr: Who came up with the idea for Japan?

S: I did, it was always a place I had wanted to explore. I wanted to go someplace where I wouldn’t be able to read anything, I wouldn’t see any typography that I understood, I wouldn’t be able to read any adverts. Everything ended up looking cute and kind of silly because I couldn’t read it, and that’s what I wanted. I wanted an escape from all of that, and I found it there. I found a great peace in Japan, even in a city as busy as Tokyo, which is very peaceful in areas, and there’s a great connection to nature even within the city. And there was stuff everywhere! All these interactions make up your experience, having more experiences increases the amount of knowledge that you have and possess, and the more you can potentially experience, the more that you can potentially know. I think it’s true for anybody.

If you have any passion to know yourself better than you knew it before, go someplace that is completely and utterly foreign to you. Go with no one else, go by yourself, go with no plans, and no conceptions about what it is going to be.

If you want a more in-depth look into how Scott engineered the Obama campaign, watch this speech he gave at the Illinois Institute of Technology, Chicago.

Chaka Khan once sang, “I’m a woman in a man’s world”. She was chanting about the wonderful world of showbiz but it’s fair to say the wonderful world of advertising is only the far less glamorous sister. It’s a sausage-fest no matter where you go! And being part of that can be fairly difficult when you’re sausageless. As if the industry’s not tough enough. That’s why we asked our good ol’ female buddy, Mel Peters, digital creative director at Lowe Sydney, to give us her best advice on being a lady in a man’s world.

And girls, or boys for that matter, if you want to pick her brain some more, reach her at mel.peters@loweworldwide.com. No spammy spam please.

Junior: Do you personally find it tough to be a woman in this industry?

Mel: No I love it! It’s all about standing out with great ideas and that’s something I’m passionate about. A lot of people have been comfortable with male creatives because that’s what they’re used too. However, good ideas will always cut through no matter who you are.

Jr: Has there been a particular incident where you know your gender has worked against you? What about for you?

M: It’s how you look at things. For example, working on car accounts, I was the only female creative on the team. In this situation I always added a valuable and different perspective to briefs. I was able to approach the brand with really powerful insights that led to award winning creative. Taking the car ‘beyond the metal’ was a big part of creating innovative campaigns that engaged and empowered their audience. Female creatives can do amazing work on even the most ‘blokiest’ of briefs. There really is no boundary to what you can work on.

Jr: Why do you think it’s more difficult for women?

M: I think there has been a limited number of role-models and Senior Female Creatives in the industry and for young female creatives on the rise, this can be daunting. I’ve worked with strong female Creatives like Fiona Davidson and Paula Keamy who are both fantastic role-models. It is important to find these role models and seek advice along the way. Women have a great opportunity to lead in senior creative roles today and I see more and more talented young women choosing ‘creative’ as a positive career path.

Jr: Is there any other advice you have for women in or wanting to get into the industry?

M: Understanding your audience is key, and women are the primary purchase decision-maker for many brands in Australia. Female buying power hasn’t fully been tapped into in Australia, and there is a great opportunity for female creatives to lead this. Women are also powerful communicators, and as we continue to move into the digital world with influence marketing and social networking changing our traditional communication habits, women in the industry will bring great insight and creative ideas to the table. Ultimately though, it’s all about great thinking and powerful ideas.

And just cause she can, here’s Mel’s tips to success:

01- Believe in your ideas. Gain confidence in your thinking by exploring your ideas thoroughly before you talk to others around you.

02- Present, present, present your work. This is so important. Grab as many opportunities as you can to showcase your ideas yourself and get in front of clients, as often as you can.

03- Look for female mentors, if not in your agency, outside it. Some may have blogs or twitter feeds that will give you insight and spur you on. You can follow me here.

04- Hit the streets and do your own market research. Get to know your audience inside and out and become an expert in the briefs you get. If your agency celebrates big ideas based on powerful insights, you will shine.

05- Don’t be afraid to think of yourself as a brand and sell yourself. Getting your voice and point of view out there is a great place to start. I see many juniors who have put their folio online and started a blog. It’s a great way to make sure you are heard and noticed.

06- Have fun and enjoy what you do. If you love it, everyone will know.

Alright, alright. We know what you’re thinking, “Another ad-guy? When you kids gonna get over this ad-schmer-tising thing, huh?” Well you’re right. Evan Fry is an ad-guy. But he ain’t just any ad-guy–he’s a true-blue award-winning ex-Creative Director of Crispin Porter & Bogusky style ad-guy, and he has some good shit to say, so chill out, bro. That sort of heritage makes him better than most ad-guys, who on the whole are a dime-a-dozen, and definitely don’t look this good with a head wrapped in ostrich feathers. He just left CP+B to start up the world’s first ad agency utilising the power of crowd-sourcing, named Victors & Spoils. That’s pretty cool-magool if you ask us. You know what else makes Evan cooler than most? He’s an old-school copywriter. Which tends to be rare these days. So if you’re one of the few who want to take up the lost art of copywriting, listen to what Evan has to say. You can actually use his advice–which is darn considerate of him, seeing as most of these so-called ‘ad-guys’ have a lot to say about nothing. In summation: Evan Fry ain’t just your average ad-guy, he’s a super-talented old-school copywriting mega-machine, and wants you to Be Fucking Awesome.

Junior: We heard somewhere that you’ve got a crazy story about getting a job at Crispin Porter + Bogusky. Apparently it’s a ‘doozy’. May as well tell us the whole thing!

Evan Fry: Sure. But it’s a long one. It basically began with me having been fired from the job I had and sending my book to Crispin. At that point, this was the spring of 2002, I had been a writer/ACD for 8 years already, and I wanted to work for CP+B more than anywhere else–so I sent my book. About a month after I sent it in they returned it to me with a form letter, “signed” by Alex Bogusky himself. It was encouraging, but standard. Very professional of them to be that on top of their shit, I thought. And then I forgot about it. About two months later, after becoming a bit bored of not getting much play from the shops I truly wanted to work for, I had an idea: what if I acted as though that letter really was a sincere letter from Alex to me, and started sending him weird notes from the stance of ‘jilted-lover-gone-psycho-at-not-getting-any-more-letters-from-Alex’?

So I got some really precious stationery like a grandma might use, a super nice calligraphy pen, and went to it. My thought was keep them short, keep them anonymous, and keep them weird. And not think for a minute that Alex himself would ever even get them. I think the first one said, in really weird cursive, “It’s been two months since you last wrote me, Alex. Don’t you love me anymore, Alex?” Nothing else. A few days later I sent another one. And then another, after a few more days. For the fourth one, I reduced a photocopy of the original form letter he’d sent me, but used black permanent marker and inked out my name on it. I accompanied it with a psycho note on the psycho stationery that this time said, “Perhaps by now, Alex, you’re wondering who the hell I am? Well maybe I’m a lot like you, Alex.”

Four days later as I was thinking about how to take it up a notch, I got a FedEx delivery. It was from Miami. When I opened it, it was clear something was weird. There was another envelope inside. And then inside that envelope was a Ziploc bag. It had the vibe of an evidence bag like in lawyer movies. I opened the Ziploc and there was a Photostat-camera blowup of the part of the form letter I’d sent where I’d inked out my name. But by blowing it up 10 times, its size had revealed the name under the ink. ‘Evan’, just huge. Stapled to it was a copy of my letter, and in red ink someone had circled “… who the hell I am.” And that was it. It was all just one big fucking “touché, motherfucker. We got you.”

I was psyched beyond belief. Because all of a sudden I had concrete proof that not only had my letters been getting to him, but they’d been actually getting to him, you know? And he took some time and effort to play the game. So I immediately loved Alex. And the day after I got the envelope, Veronica Padilla, his assistant at the time, called for my book again. I thought I had a job in the bag, or at least a flight out. But it didn’t work like that. I didn’t hear anything for weeks.

By then I’d started a whole other self promotion idea where I was mailing a weekly photo of myself to the top 30 or 40 creative directors around the world who I wanted to work with. Each one was literally just a 4×6 photo – showing how much time I had on my hands. Like, in one I was having a tea party with stuffed animals. In another I was drinking tallboys with bums on the street. On the back of each, every week, I wrote in pen something that went with it, like, “God I need some work,” and I’d include my phone number.

So I had these going on, and was also sending them to Alex. But I still didn’t hear from him. However the photos were working, and I was getting a lot of great freelance so I didn’t care as much, although CP+B was still where I really wanted to be.

About six weeks later Alex himself finally called and said, “I’ve been meaning to call you, why don’t you fly out.” I did, and had a great interview. Thought I had it in the bag for sure, and… didn’t. He didn’t have a slot for me. So I kept the weekly photos going, kept freelancing, and then four months later I was freelancing at Mad Dogs & Englishmen in San Francisco and got a message on my answering machine. “Hey Evan, it’s Alex, call Veronica back and tell her the code word is pineapple.” I called her back and she said Alex wanted to offer me a job. It was literally one of the best days of my life. P-e-r-s-e-v-e-r-a-n-c-e.

Jr: Wow. Ok. That definitely is a doozy. It’s nice to see someone with experience and good work struggle like the best of us. In fact, your website mentions that at twenty-six you “weren’t exactly setting the advertising world on fire”. How did you push through that? Did you ever want to give it up and go mountain biking for good?

E: Oh man, you got that right. Actually, a few times. I got out of school from the University of Oregon and unlike my partner in school, Glenn Cole, I didn’t take a good job out of school. My book was shit and I spent a year working on it but the only job I could land was at the ‘third biggest place in Portland’ – which basically means nowhere you’ve ever heard of. And even though I only stayed there a year, it seemed my destiny was sort of set. I couldn’t get play in the Weidens or the Goodbys of the day, so I was just floating around at the mediocre places, like 95% of us.

I moved to San Francisco in 1996 and experienced more of the same. But I moved to be in a bigger market with more chances. I kept at it, kept trying, and just didn’t give up. I guess that’s why I ended that last question by saying perseverance. That’s really the only answer when you feel like you’ve got what it takes, when you know that in your heart. If you know you’re good and you know you’re smart but can’t seem to get a break, you’ve got to prove how smart you are and make your own break. I’m 100% convinced of that.

Jr: You’ve written your entire career. But a lot of young people aren’t taught hardcore writing anymore. From our experience, advertising education tends to be more ideas-focused. What advice would you give to young writers?

E: I think this is true. I went to a School of Journalism program, and was lucky enough to be a decent writer just inherently, I dare say. And then in school at University of Oregon, I was also lucky to have two great ad professors who were classically trained. So the mix was pure writing and grammar, mixed with classic concepting classes, and barebones, fucking copywriting courses. It didn’t hurt to have Dan Weiden himself teaching a couple of intensive seminars. But today, you’re right–ad programs stress concepts first, at best. Copywriters today, I swear to God, most of them shouldn’t call themselves “writers” at all. But it’s not really the game now, nor is it anyone’s fault really.

The advice I would give is to read a lot. And to pick up the book Grammar for Journalists and study it like there’s going to be a quiz on it every day. I’d also say to use self-discipline. And read The Book of Gossage. Teach yourself. If you’re a copywriter who can actually write, you’re set for life. Love the headline, love long copy, do it all the time, get better at it, write hundreds of options for each headline idea. Treat it like a craft. That’s what it is. I still love to write ads.

Jr: Do you get the urge/time to do any writing or other creative stuff outside of advertising?

E: Nope. I really don’t, not writing. I get the urge to do other things besides advertising though. And I do those things. It’s why I started sharklove.com and also befuckingawesome.com. Be Fucking Awesome, especially, is just a labour of love. I kept having this idea where I would write a book that would be a sort of “guide for living.” I had this idea for a title and it was “How to Be Fucking Awesome.” This was while I was really cranking at CP+B, on the road producing all the time. So I didn’t really have the energy to do it, but I bought the URL befuckingawesome.com and felt good enough about doing that. Then I just sat on it for a couple years.

Finally I had John Parker, my partner at the time and now a CD at W+K New York, do up a branding identity for BFA. He rocked it. And it sat there again. Then I had the idea to tweak it into a social network of sorts where you could post your Fucking Awesome deeds, let the world vote on each one, and those votes would contribute to your Awesome Quotient. So then I fucking had to do it. And that’s what I did. I found another amazing designer to help with the design, a fantastically talented developer, and sunk a lot of my own money into paying him to develop it. It’s been live now since the end of September. It isn’t really taking off the way I’d hoped, but I am learning a whole lot from it and know what to try to make it take off more. It’s really satisfying, in some ways. But mostly, it’s just a massive learning experience.

Jr: So, now that you’ve left CP+B to start your own agency, what can the world expect from Victors and Spoils?

E: Good question. I think the world can expect to see a viable new way of coming up with ideas for the advertising industry. A way where the clients feel like they get the service and attention that traditional agencies give, but ideas and work that is devised from a much broader base of amateurs and/or the users of their products and services–then directed and shaped to be on brand and on brief. So it’ll feel like an ad agency to the client, but engage the world to help solve their business problems. What we’re trying to do is show that there is a new way of doing things. A way that works and can let more people into the process. We’re all savvy critics of ads and marketing communications nowadays – because we’re exposed to it from birth. There are a lot of people out there who could be really good at it, and we want to give them a way of working on things just like those of us who went to school to become experts. There’s a shitload more to it than that, obviously. But the world can expect some really interesting briefs to work on for some really interesting clients. At least.

Jr: The business model you guys described on launch, was anything but ‘more of the same’, but there’s going to be the inevitable detraction from folks not into the whole model. Are crowd-sourcing naysayers the new ‘30-seconds-of-TV-is-the-only-media-we-need’ dinosaurs?

E: I don’t know; that’s a good question. There are naysayers out there. Basically what the internet gives people is a voice, and they love to use it to say how dumb everything is that isn’t their own idea. I learned pretty fast after we launched that I just had to turn it off, it was exhausting trying to answer or consider everyone’s points. Which we still care a lot about, but so many people were just being so aggressively mean and negative, so full of hate, that we realized very fast that no answer would satisfy the vocal minority. It’s one of the most loaded issues out there right now and because we consciously launched with as much hoopla as we could create, we became the brightest bull’s-eye. It’s cool though; we intend to just continue doing our thing and trying to get some good clients and craft briefs that let people play with brands if they want to. If they don’t want to, that’s cool too.

Jr: How does a junior (or anyone for that matter) get a shot at working for a hot shop like CP+B or Victors & Spoils? Can you give us five awesome tips?

E: What if I give you one tip and explain the shit out of it?

Jr: Evan, you do what you feel…

E: Good.

1. Get really good at the craft of being a creative.

- Write down everything. Take notes as you learn. Take notes as you concept.

- Doodle as you think. Keep the pen moving.

- Do lots of options for everything. Only through looking at it can you know if something is better or worse than what you already have. Look at it.

- Take it seriously; don’t expect it to come easy. Focus on the brief. Do “concepting intervals” where you focus and write every idea down. Then have a break. Then get back to it.

- Sketch everything. Go analog. Don’t fucking concept on your fucking laptop. Pad of paper. Pen or pencil. You alone, or you and your partner. Find somewhere to get in sync and focus and riff. When writing headlines, that’s when I think writing on your computer is good. But try using all caps, or two spaces between each headline. Treat it like art, and have some pride for how the words look. Do a bunch. Edit them a little. Do a bunch more. Edit a little. Repeat. If you’re building your book, keep the presentation simple. But don’t ignore the presentation.

Jr: Is there life after advertising? Should advertising be a means to an end?

E: For me, I think there has to be. For anyone, for sure there can be. Depends on how much a boner it gives you, I guess.

Interview by: Pete Majarich

How great is Thousand Pound Bend!? It’s such a versatile venue. It feels like our home with all those couches and bedraggled furniture scattered about. Within this house of comfort and mirth we hosted our December event, presided over by none other than our old friend Stuart Geddes, one of Melbourne’s most visually articulate and clever designers from Chase & Galley. Luckily for those who weren’t there, he’s sent us a copy of his ten tips in ten minutes, which you can download here. If it doesn’t make any sense and you’ve got questions — email us. We’ll tell you what he said to accompany the pictures. It’s only fair.

See you in February everyone!

Man or machine? Leo’s glowing global reputation as a ‘wunderkind’ will have you believe the latter. It was our supposition that surely he must be human — mortal and unfunny in real life — just like you or I. We ventured to New York City in order to find out, and the story goes thus: Three short years ago, Leo and his creative partner, Jan Jacobs, were anointed Saatchi & Saatchi New York’s joint Executive Creative Directors. At the time Leo was just 28. They left after one highly awarded year, joined forces again to set-up their own NYC-based agency, Johannes Leonardo, and have been working harder than you in the two years since. Leo and Jan have created some of the naughties’ most awarded, hilarious, insightful, haunting, and incredibly succinct advertising you’ve likely seen or heard in London and the U.S — ads like this, this, this and this — winning many lions and other assorted animal like statues. The jury is still out on Leo’s genetic make-up, for at the interview, Leo spewed mythical reams of advice from his lion-like mouth, then galloped off into the sunset laughing like a hyena. The Junior team turned to one-another, wide-eyed and mystified, mouths gaping like hungry, hungry hippos, gasping for air. Are we making this up? Yes. Without further ado — Leo, Leo, bo-bio. Banana-fanna-fo-fio. Mee-my-mio. Leeeee-o.

Junior: Hey Leo! Sorry about that ridiculous intro — our intern wrote it. He’s nuts. So first we wanna know, how did you get into the ad game? What was your journey from raw junior to respected senior?

Leo: It’s a little odd… I was coming out of an operation; my appendix had burst hours before I was due to board a plane to Germany for professional football trials. I woke up from the anesthetic with an advertising idea and my decision was made. I stuck to advertising. Which was a good thing because I wouldn’t have stood a chance at the whole football thing.

A couple of years before that I had been selected as one of the AFA trainees out of university. It probably helped to have an understanding of how the entire process worked from media, to strategy to account management. But it was most useful in making me absolutely desperate and determined to work in the creative department because I quickly realized I didn’t want to do any of those other things for a living.

Jr: We’re dying to know if have any stories from your time as a junior when life sucked? Any horror book crits or moments of creative block that made you reassess life and what you were doing?

L: Sure I did, I think everyone does. Don’t be intimidated by thinking creating great work comes completely naturally to some people. Truth is, anyone who is any good has spent hours and hours perfecting their craft and if they tell you otherwise they’re full of it.

And the same goes for ‘creative block’. I don’t want to sit here and say I never have it, of course I do. I think the trick is to try and not see it as ‘creative block’. See it as something that happens to everyone, something you just need to work through or come at from a different angle.

Jr: Wow. Yes. You have no idea how relieving that is to hear from you. You know what else is intimidating? Awards. Obviously you’ve won a lot. Everyone has their own take on what they mean and what they should mean. 99% would agree they mean nothing when compared to ‘creativity’ or ‘effectiveness’ or ‘selling lots of shit and making your client happy’. How important have they been to you and how should we as juniors approach the current award industry?

L: I remember being about 25, at Cannes for the fist time and winning 4 or so Cannes Lions. I realized pretty much right then and there that awards weren’t going to keep me excited about getting out of bed each morning.

At the end of the day the most important thing for any junior to do is understand what sort of creative person they want to be. Then to strike that balance of getting enough respect and trust to actually one day be able to create that path for yourself.

Personally, I believe award shows matter less now than they once did. Partly because there’s so many of them, and partly because everyone has a gazillion of them, including students, but more importantly because why would we care so much to see what a panel of 20 or so people think when we have the opportunity to see what millions of people think about our ideas?

The true reward for our creations now is seeing how they effect and touch the public.

Jr: Ah yes! But! If that be true, are award books worth looking at these days for inspiration or an education in ideas?

L: I think it’s important to know what’s been done before, and what hasn’t, to know the rules so you know how to break them, to know the history of work and of a category. As a junior you should soak up all the inspiration you can get.

I’d just say don’t try and replicate the stuff you see in books. We live in unique and as they say exponential times. Things are changing quicker than ever before, so what was good a year back has never become so old so quickly.

True inspiration though — that’s not in award books. It’s around us in the world we live. But if the books can help make the work better year upon year, and ultimately the stuff we force into the public’s face a little less crap, then I guess we should take them any which way we can.

Jr: Someone once told us, “Leo is a genius. He was also supported by brilliant ECDs at every agency he went to.” How important have your mentors been to how you approach your work and what should juniors look for in a brilliant mentor?

L: Absolutely crucial. Whenever I see a junior unsure of which agency to join I tell them to focus on the individuals there. Ultimately it’s the individuals there who will help guide you and who define those places during the time they spend there. I was lucky enough to work under some great ones, but even more than that I got to work alongside some as a junior writer. With Toby Talbot at Colenso BBDO and of course a few years later working with Jan at Saatchi & Saatchi London.

So I’ll always be appreciative of how much time senior creatives gave me when I was knocking on their doors with a bad portfolio. Granted I could be an absolute pain in the ass so it was probably easier to see me than not back then. There are great people out there, generous with their time and passionate about their jobs, it’s really just a matter of tracking them down and feeding off them.

Jr: Could you possibly speculate how important working internationally has been to your career? Can you imagine if you had stayed in Australia and where you might be now?

L: Probably a much better surfer than I am these days…

Advertising is a great vehicle to check out the rest of the world. But the strange thing is wherever I’ve ended up I’ve always been glad that I started out in Australia. When there isn’t a whole lot to rely in terms of budgets, production time and global media buys you’re only left with the strength of your idea so that’s what you focus on. Once you’ve learnt how to make your idea bullet proof, all those other layers, they only make your original idea better.

Jr: What’s your best advice for dealing with politics within an agency, both dealing with others and fighting for ideas, especially when you’re at the bottom rung of the hierarchy?

Work for someone you believe can spot good ideas. It’s that simple. Chances are part of the reason you got into this industry is because you realized the work rules. So take advantage of that as a junior. My advice would be don’t worry about the other stuff. More and more the true power will lie in the hands of creative people, and we all know the best ones aren’t political.

Jr: Obviously there are a lot of kids coming straight out of ad schools today with the same work for the same old clients with the same witty headlines and such… What are you looking for in a junior and what can those graduating from the ad schools do differently to stand out and impress someone like you?

L: The best way I can think to explain that is with something John Lennon said. He was once asked why he wrote music and he responded by comparing it to writing a letter. Writing the letter, he said, got him excited but what he really got off on was the response he would get to that letter. That’s it at its essence. We’re looking for people who have that thing inside them, that urge to touch people with their ideas, those who live for simplifying things down to a common language that effects people, deeply and broadly.

Of course, now you’re also trying to stand out during the biggest recession of our lifetimes. But I believe that soon this will be an advantage to the kids coming through. History has shown that when the slate is clean, when things are being re-appraised, and it’s happening on two levels in our industry right now – on a technological and an economic level, it’s the turn of the new guard to step up…

So don’t underestimate yourself, don’t set the bar at junior thinking. You’re competing with every kid out there with a digital camera and internet access. We live in a democratic era of communication, a time of accessibility and participation, where big production budgets can in some cases be more of a burden than a gift.

Jr: Generating ideas – what’s your process? Have you got any crucial tips to tackling a problem creatively?

L: I ain’t got any secrets. It happens differently every time, that’s part of the fun. I don’t really keep shortlists of my ideas. I know if it’s good enough it’ll stick around in my head – Jan calls it ‘the volt’. I would say though, don’t ignore the things that on the surface don’t seem crucial to creating great advertising. Like, spending time to identify what the real problem is – not just the advertising problem but the business problem, and embracing the limits imposed on you. It’s often there the real gem lies.

I also think it’s important to keep in mind, especially as a junior when you don’t have a ton of production experience that as big and important as coming up with the great idea, is understanding what about it will keep it great. Another reason why it’s so important which creative director you work under.

Jr: OK, enough of that cliche ad-guy question guff — how the hell do you live a balanced life? You obviously work really hard. Is that something that comes naturally or do you have to sacrifice things to make your life liveable outside of hard work?

L: Hard work has never felt like hard work because it’s something I’ve always loved. Reducing something down to is most basic form, I’m not sure how many other professions there are where you have the same tools as anyone else in the business irrelevant of your experience – a blank pad and a pen.

So for me loving what you do is the most important ingredient really. If people advise you against being a creative don’t listen to them, listen to your heart. If you’re passionate enough about what you do, you’ll work hard enough at it and the skill will eventually come. Just make sure you’ve instilled a healthy effort reward ratio. By that I mean make sure you’re always working on something you’re excited about – which usually means something you haven’t done before.

Jr: How far into the future do you look? You’re not that far past thirty and you’ve already achieved more accolades than many people achieve in their entire careers. We know you probably don’t buy into that sort of statement, but where to next? How often do you need to reassess your career and where it fits within your entire life? Do you even think about that shit?

L: I was made ECD of the Saatchi & Saatchi New York office when I was 28, and I remember when I would walk there across west 4th street, there was a faded chalk scribble that would always catch me out. It simply said ‘where are you going?’. Every time I read it, it made me think: where was I going? To another meeting? To a corner office? Over time, without me realizing it, I think these four words embedded themselves into my subconscious.

So when I look back on it now Jan and I left Saatchi and Saatchi because we kinda had this feeling inside we weren’t being pushed as much as we could be. We began directing a couple of things and really enjoyed that as a distraction. But we knew there was a bigger issue on the table. We felt the world around us was changing quicker than the big agency model could, and us if we stayed in one. So even if you don’t intend to look far ahead, I guess there’s something inside of us that does.

Best of luck juniors, I hope this helps.

There once was a time in the history of modern advertising, when mad men were actually mad, and the industry produced characters larger than life. People like Charles Saatchi, Ed McCabe, Bill Bernbach, and George Lois, who in particular once said, “I know what the fuck I know, and you know what the hell you know, and I’ll tell you what I think, and you tell me to fuck off.” Stan knows the things that made these characters larger than life can make you successful too. You just have to find heroes worth following.

On Sunday I went to see The Damned United. It’s a film about one of the most charismatic men in English football, the late Brian Clough.

The only person I can compare him to is Don Draper from the TV show Mad Men.

Like Draper, Clough did not tolerate fools very well. What made him successful was a combination of his love of the game and sheer bloody mindedness.

These are characteristics you need to have too.

Of course you can have a career without them, but you’re going to need them if you want to get to the top.

Clough took a lowly team to the pinnacle of English football. And he did it his way. He broke rules, he ignored advice and he did whatever club management told him not to.

At the peak of his success he left and took on a new job at a bigger club. 44 days later he was sacked.

Did he let this stop him? Of course not!

Clough loved the game. And he believed in himself. That is an unbeatable combination.

If you have that combination, you too will succeed. But you need to steel yourself in order to succeed. Because the road to the top is tough. But it’s definitely a road worth travelling.

Remember that emo-kid at school who ‘managed’ the punk band? Let’s call that kid ‘street smart kid’. ‘Street smart kid’ was the shit. He was creative, tenacious, focused, could get a hundred screaming kids along to some shitty gig in the sticks, and hacked up letterboxes with an axe after downing a bottle of Jimmy B at your fifteenth birthday. Where is ‘street smart kid’ now? Running that record label you want to work for, of course. This week we interview one such ‘street smart kid’ – Leeor Brown. His L.A based label, Friends of Friends, sells limited edition tee-shirts and other tangible goods that come with a download code instead of a CD. He’s already done one with Daedelus, and Mos Def stole the idea with his newest release, so it must be the shiz-nit. We know there’s some ‘street smart kids’ reading this site – so why don’t you go out and start a label, y’all? Go on! It’s better than a real job. Fuck!

Junior: Why the hell did you start a record label? Aren’t all of those things going broke?

Leeor: Well, I think that’s debatable. Labels that have been around and built a business model on what was happening back in the day, treating it like a product based business, aren’t keeping up with the times. I saw an opportunity to do the things that labels used to do without nearly the same amount of overhead. There’s still money out there – people are still buying digital. Not at the same rate or the same amount of income earned as it was with CDs, but at the same time you spend a lot less money getting that release out and distributed these days. For me it’s about trying to do things differently, not spending that much money up front so the artists and label can see some money at the end of the day.

Jr: We read somewhere that vinyl sales were actually through the roof too.

L: Yeah in the last few years they went up something like a thousand percent where CD sales dropped off. The way I always look at it is that the people who are clamouring the most are the ones that made money, or established their business in that model, and that shit just doesn’t exist anymore. Not even just the major labels either, even the bigger indie labels that have been around for ten or fifteen years are struggling too because they created a whole business that now has to shift modes.

Jr: Definitely. You’re releasing your second EP soon right?

L: Yeah, we have one release out, Friends of Friends Volume 1. But I also have these remixes that came exclusively with the shirt for the first three months but I put those out on iTunes last month.
Our second release, Volume 2, is out September 15th and is this group Larytta. That’ll be the second shirt release. Then our first full length will be this dude Ernest Gonzales in February.

Jr: Is the full length going to be just a shirt too or will it be something else?

L: No no no, it’s going to be a whole other thing. I’m pretty excited about it actually, I’ve got to say. I’ve gone big for Ernest’s record: we got 16 musicians to do covers, so there is a cover for every song on the full length, and then we got artists from around the world to do their interpretation of a song so there are 13 pieces of artwork that will be made into a book that comes with the download codes for the record, digital artwork, and covers.
The way I look at it especially with the word of mouth idea – we have sixteen remixers, fourteen artists, Ernest and his label, me and my label, and the label doing the vinyl. All of a sudden we have something like 40 people built into one release and talking about it or having a reason to get people excited for it. It’s instant promotion.

Jr: So have you made some mistakes so far? Anything you’d like to share with other first timers wanting to make their own label?

L: I mean, it’s all a learning process. I’m sure there have been a bunch but I have no idea yet. (laughs), I actually think about that all the time because I only launched in March – so I’m not even that far into it. At this point I’m still flying by the seat of my pants. Eventually I’ll be able to look back and be like, ‘God you fucked that up’, but for now there’s not too much. Again I’m not putting that much into it, financially that is, since it’s mostly just my time, it doesn’t feel like I’m making too many mistakes because I’m not really going to get screwed financially or anything.

Jr: Is it hard to convince artists or people that you’re working with to love the idea or do they love it just like we do?

L: For the most part people tend to jump right in. I tend to not work with a bunch of really established artists though, Daedelus is probably the most well established artist I’ve worked with to date, and he is legitimately a close friend and if it wasn’t for him I probably wouldn’t have done the label. He kicked me in the ass more than a few times to make sure this went down. Besides that I try to work with artists that aren’t that well known and they are just hungry, they want to get their music out there. On top of that I have the ability to promote rather extensively so most artists are like ‘Oh this is dope, let’s do it.’ I’m sure I’ll run into a fair share of people who aren’t that into it, but for the most part the artists and press are loving it.

Jr: You’re a publicist at Terrorbird Media right now too. How do you break into that world? Because it seems like that would help you with ideas and the progression of making them a reality.

L: Yeah it’s all been a slow build so far. I started off in college radio as a hip hop director at KZSC in Santa Cruz, got a job in radio promotion that I got over in a while, moved into online marketing and finally progressed into publicity. Basically all of my experience with my job was teaching me lessons about the music industry. Trying to talk with labels and artists and evaluating everyone’s situations and seeing how I might be able to fit into it. Slowly but surely I realized I have access to all these great artists and could promote because that’s what I did for a day job and that you can release things digitally for nothing! At the end of the day I realized I have this possible business in hand for a very minimal investment and it just kind of went from there. I have to say, I don’t know if somebody else could just up and do it like I did because I was lucky to already have certain things in place if I wanted to do them.

Jr: So one of the biggest assets for you was probably your network of creative people around you?

L: There’s no doubt about that. That’s kind of what the whole Friends of Friends notion came from because I knew I had this really awesome network of people but ultimately they were homies with all these people I didn’t know about, and they didn’t know me, but of course I know their music or something. So that was how the idea progressed. I didn’t want to be restricted to only the people I knew but I had to start the label that way.  So the idea of Friends of Friends is that I can bring in the people I know but maybe they can bring in other and slowly and surely the word can spread between friends. “Oh hey I’m with this thing, it’s called Friends of Friends, you should check it out…”
I wanted to make sure that it wasn’t just about me, because that’s what a lot of labels tend to be and this was trying to expand on what network I already had in place.

Interview by: Pat Collins

Writing these intros can be such a bitch. Trying to think of something witty and original is super ghey, plus you get that added extra of thinking no one will laugh at your jokes. So seeing as we’re awesome journalists now, we decided to consult the almanac of Awesome Journalism 2009: Wikipediac.

“William James (Wil) Anderson (born 31 January, 1974) is an Australian comedian, performing stand-up, as well as on television and radio.”

That pretty much sums it up. Funny dude, funny name, famous enough to need a Wikipedia entry… Basically, Wil is a pretty rad dude and funny as balls. How funny? Check this out! These are the names of his stand-up shows since 1998:

“Wilosophy (2009); BeWILdered (2008); Wil of God (2007); Wil Communication (2006); Kill Wil (2005); Licence to Wil (2004); Jagged Little Wil (2003); Wil By Mouth (2002); Wil Of Fortune (2001); Who Wants To Be A Wilionaire (2000); Willenium, Terra Wilius (1999); and I am the Wilrus (1998).”

Ok, enough of that. We asked him all the questions us juniors might want to know about figuring out life, parents, being creative, the ‘process’, and other such in depth conversation. Read on and find the meaning of life.*

Jr: When was the first time you realised you could make people laugh?

Wil: I can’t remember when I first realised I could. That part of it still comes as a bit of a mystery to me. But I certainly remember when I realised I wanted to.

When I was about fourteen I lived on my parents’ farm in the country, and we only had two TV channels. Yes, that’s right kids, two. (And we used to eat nothing but pebbles and were grateful.)

We had Southern Cross, and the ABC. My two favourite shows were the Ted Robinson produced Big Gig and Andrew Denton’s Money or the Gun. I loved those shows because I finally saw people who seemed to look at the world the way I did.

I found the notion that interesting ideas, and counter-culture thoughts, could be presented through humor immensely appealing.

I could never have imagined back then that twenty years later I would have been lucky enough to work with both Ted (on The Glass House) and Andrew (on The Gruen Transfer).

Jr: And when did you then decide you wanted to be a comedian?

W: I can remember the exact moment. My appetite for comedy had been growing for a few years, and for my seventeenth birthday my Mum took me to see Billy Connolly live. Now I guess going on a date with your Mum on your birthday isn’t that cool, but I thought it was the coolest thing I had ever seen.

I saw this man talk for three hours in a row, swearing his head off, and have three thousand people aged ten to eighty piss themselves. (In the case of the older ones sometimes literally.) I knew that moment it was what I wanted to do for a job.

Jr: Yes! A lot of us can definitely relate to that feeling. But were you parents supportive?

W: I don’t think my parents were rapt when I told them I was going to give up being a journalist to tell dick jokes for cash.

But my Dad always said the secret of life was to find something you liked to do, work hard, and you would find a way to get people to pay you to do it. And comedy was what I wanted to do.

But secretly I don’t think it was until I bought a house they finally realised it was a proper career. They figured if someone would loan me cash based on knob gags and Shannon Noll material it must be a real job.

Jr: Ha! Yes! Do you think you got your humour from them or are they completely unfunny?

W: My Dad is a farmer and has a dry sense of humor. My Mum is the really funny one. I remember after I had got in trouble for saying something, a journo rang my Mum and asked: “Are you embarrassed by your son?”

Mum simply replied: “When he was one I took him to the local shopping mall and he did poo on my face, nothing he has done since then has embarrassed me as much!”

Jr: When you were starting out did you have a ‘plan b’ – we heard you studied Journalism?

W: I had a teacher at school- let’s just call her “Mrs Brown”- who I told I was thinking about becoming a comedian. She told me I wasn’t funny, and wouldn’t make a living doing it, and I should get a proper job…

It deflated me. So I ended up studying journalism.

When we started doing The Glass House I always wanted to call it Stick It Up Your Arse Mrs Brown, so she would have to see every week she was wrong.

As soon as I started comedy I quit all my other work. I didn’t want a plan b. I saw an episode of Oprah where she was interviewing Roseanne and she said: “The problem with back-up plans is you fall back on them.”

Jr: Totally. Do you think though that having that background helps you be a comedian now?

W: It got me used to producing something to a deadline. Being a comedian isn’t about being funny, it’s about being funny on demand.

Roy and HG told me they often get approached in the pub by people telling them they had friends who were funnier than them. Their only response is: “Yeah, we are just able to be funny when the red light comes on.”

Jr: When it comes to writing new material; does it come naturally while you’re doing your daily thing or do you have to sit down and consciously work at it?

W: The one thing I have learned is that it is all these things… and sometimes none of them.

Sometimes something funny happens and I just note it down (that’s why I have to take my notebook to the pub or I come home with notes all over me like Guy Pearce in Memento.)

Sometimes I have a set assignment (ie. Write something about mother’s day for a column, or I want to write something about gay marriage for my stand-up act) and sometimes it just comes out magically fully-formed on stage.

Sometimes it’s a combination of all of it. Sometimes none of it works. Sometimes the trick is to stop staring at the page, walk to the shops to grab the paper, and in your head something clicks.

Russell Brand says his life is a series of embarrassing incidents strung together by telling people about those embarrassing incidents, but my life isn’t that interesting so I have to work at it.

Jr: OK, so we’ve sent you these questions and you said you’d answer them on the plane. Obviously you’re on your way overseas to do some shows… How well does comedy translate across continents? Do you find you have to change your approach?

W: People tend to laugh at the same things. Language is normally the thing you have to be wary of. For example I was doing a gig in New York a couple of years ago when I said: “I don’t mean to hang shit on George Bush!”

Of course they don’t have that expression there. So everyone stared at me like I literally wanted to “hang shit” on George Bush. Like I was some sort of defecation decorator, think Brown Eye For The Bush Guy.

Jr: You’ve done TV, radio, penned columns, authored a book and of course done stand-up shows, but sometimes all at once… Is this all part of being a great entertainer? Or if you had it your way would just concentrate on one area?

W: I tend to get sacked a lot, so I tend to do a lot of things because I have a hideous mortgage and no other skills.

Seriously though, having more than one string to your bow certainly makes you more employable, but you do run the risk of being jack of all trades, master of none.

In the last few years I have been trying to pick fewer projects (ie. Doing ten weeks of Gruen rather than 42 weeks of Glass House) and try to do them better.

I guess ideally I would love to get to a point where I could do stand-up full-time and just dabble in the other things.

But then again, while I don’t love TV, radio, writing etc in the same way I love stand-up, there are things about each of them that I really enjoy and I am certainly glad I have had the opportunity to try them all.

And like anything, no matter how much fun, you can get bored and that is the death of creativity. So after a long stand-up tour it’s great to forget about it for a month and go and work on some tele or write a book.

Jr: Tell us about The Gruen Transfer – How did you find yourself working with Andrew Denton on a show about ads?

W: I have a general theory that you should try to work with people who inspire you, or people you admire, and the idea will work itself out.

Andrew came to me and said he wanted to do a show that “gave people the tools to understand advertising, using humor, like Frontline did with current affairs”.

At that stage, that’s all the idea was. But I think if someone like Andrew wants to work with you, you take his hand, close your eyes, and jump off a cliff.

Jr: So is hosting shows like The Gruen Transfer and The Glasshouse the ‘top job’ to you? Or do you have other aspirations?

W: To be perfectly honest, as much as I love both of those shows, hosting television is about the least fun of all my jobs.

In fact, it’s the one that feels most like a “job”. I think the best way to put it is, I don’t think tele is fun to make, it’s fun to look back on something you have made.

(I also find writing a little like this. I don’t love to write, I love to have written.)

I certainly have some other aspirations, big and small, but if I could still be working in comedy at age 65 and never had to get another job, I would consider myself a success.

Jr: And lastly, any advice for young wannabe comedians?

W: Don’t do it… I’m not that good and I certainly don’t need competition for jobs from young, ambitious and talented people.

And only do it if you “need” to do it. If you need to, then nothing will stop you. If you are just doing it for money, or fame, there are much easier ways to get those things… like advertising.

* Ha! Got you. No meaning of life here!

Has anyone seen that new Charlie Kaufman film Synecdoche? It’s pretty great. There’s a scene where the aging protagonist/writer is shown a best-selling book of apparent genius written by a four-year-old named Horace Azpiazu. You see, there’s always someone younger than you, doing something better than you, more authentically than you, and winning more praise than you. So chill the fuck out, realise that you’re younger than a lot of people and get to work. Because Stan reckons you’ve much more to offer than just enthusiasm and a will to work for nuthin’.

Big news from the fourth estate this week, with the appointment of 23-year-old Ben Naparstek as editor of The Monthly magazine.

Yes you read that correctly – he’s 23 years old!

So I guess that puts him in the Junior demographic. Except he doesn’t see himself that way and neither should you.

Talent is talent. Ability is ability. Age should be irrelevant.

As Naparstek himself said, “I’m old enough to be well used to people telling me I’m young.”

Despite what he himself thinks, Narparstek is very young for the position he now holds.

Yet he is, if memory serves, two years older than Aussie advertising legend Siimon Reynolds was when he was made Creative Director of Grey in Sydney.

“I’ve been an adult for, what is it, five years now,” said Narparstek. “I’m 23. How much longer is this going to continue?”

Obviously Ben Narparstek doesn’t consider himself a junior. So why do you?

If you have talent and ability, you’re just as capable of having a great idea as someone ten or twenty years older than you.

So rather than thinking of yourself as someone looking to get a foot in the door, start selling yourself as someone who can contribute to a business.

Someone with so much more to offer than just enthusiasm and a low salary expectation.

Getting a job. For some people it’s the most exciting thing in the world. The thrill of the chase! Picking your favourite studio, agency, magazine, firm, whatever of your choice and banging down their door until they give you a desk and some pens. For others, its a scary, dangerous and intimidating journey. The interviews, the phone calls, the waiting, the pain! Well, we hear you friends. So we’ve asked someone who actually does the hiring for a little bit of inside info on what to say. That someone is Simon Hakim, the Managing Director and all-round forward thinking guy at The Surgery.

Junior: There are many juniors out in the world desperately trying to get a job right now, but having no luck. From the many years of hiring people, especially juniors, what advice do you have to help them finally land a job?

Simon: Basically, people should approach a prospective job and its company with some kind of plan.

I’ve been to lots of meetings of late with young and senior folk wanting a job in advertising and/or with The Surgery. After all the coffee, beer and talking, there seems to be one inherent theme that constantly worries me.

Yes we know you want a job.
Yes we know you want a job in advertising as a suit, creative, public relations person or as a digital person.
Yes we know you are qualified, have experience and think you’d be perfect for a role with The Surgery.
Yes we know you’ve done this before. Or haven’t done this before but think you’d be good at it.

But by the sounds of it all, you just want a job. You don’t really know why, other than you’d be good at whatever it is you are applying for.  You just really want to work there or you kinda just need the money.

I won’t employ someone who doesn’t really know what they want or can offer me or my clients.

I want someone saying:

“You guys could soon be the hottest creative agency, but your work can be improved, and I’ll show you how to get there” or;

“I want to be creative director in five years time” or;

“Here are three ideas for three clients you have and this is why I think it would work and what the benefit to them would be. When can we present?”

Be proactive. Understand what you want and where you are going. Have a plan. Be creative and come up with ideas that benefit the agency or their clients. Give them a reason to employ you.