I spent thirty years as a creative director on Madison Avenue, generating countless concepts for advertisements and commercials. My writing portfolio includes books and op-eds, alongside a history of crafting irreverent cartoons.

People often inquire, “Where do you find your inspiration?” I explain that idea generation becomes easier with experience. I even authored a book detailing my six-step method for creativity (published by Simon & Schuster). Thus, I typically rely on my own abilities for concept development.

However, there are times when I find myself needing external input, as recently occurred.

Important Note on the Creative Community Creative directors in advertising agencies are skilled individuals who usually ascend from roles in either copywriting or art. We're inherently social creatures, connecting with other directors across various agencies. We gather for lively lunches, casual chats at editing studios, and frequently meet at award events and industry gatherings.

We share stories with one another.

You might share your latest location shoot experience. (“Have you filmed in Fiji yet? It’s incredible! Consider adding a palm tree to your next storyboard — pitch it to your Pepsi client.”)

You could boast about a recent accolade. (“Winning the Grand Prix Lion at Cannes was exhilarating! I stayed at the Hotel Majestic, and my delighted client sent Cristal and beluga caviar to my room.”)

Or you might recount a celebrity encounter, like the time you had an unforgettable night out with Matthew McConaughey during a Lincoln shoot. (“Matt — I call him Matt — even gave me his personal email.”)

Occasionally, you’ll share a horror story from advertising, such as a campaign that tanked or a shoot disrupted by relentless rain. The most cringe-worthy tales often revolve around this theme: “The CEO’s wife has an idea.”

A Typical Scenario Picture this: Billy Bob's Boots is a new client at your agency. This burgeoning business specializes in cowboy, work, and hiking boots. The CEO, Billy Bob, has guided the company with his innovative designs and strategic pricing, establishing it as a leader in its niche.

Your task is to launch their latest product—a vibrant advertisement for their rugged off-trail biking boots, dubbed Billy Bob’s Bush Busters.

You assemble a couple of creative teams and allocate a week for brainstorming. Involving yourself, you conduct personal research as well. This process typically results in a dozen rough TV concepts. As the creative director, you select the top three ideas, and the art department finalizes three storyboards.

You then fly to Dallas to present your work in a spacious conference room at the Billy Bob headquarters. Attendees include Billy Bob himself, a VP of marketing, an ad manager, and two junior product managers.

At the meeting, you summarize the assignment and discuss how the agency tackled the creative challenge.

“I drove to Maine two weeks ago wearing a pair of Bush Busters—your Exxtreme 1000 model—and I put them through a rigorous biking test. I absolutely love that boot!”

(CLIENTS LOVE IT WHEN THEY HEAR THE AGENCY CREATIVE HAS ACTUALLY TRIED THEIR PRODUCT AND APPRECIATES IT.)

You then reveal your first storyboard.

“This commercial features a slow-motion camera positioned at pedal level, providing viewers with the sensation of riding on the boot’s toe. They’ll see the boot in action, navigating rough terrain.” You explain the visuals and read the accompanying text. The tagline is: BILLY BOB’S BUSH BUSTERS—GET THE LOWDOWN.

Next, you present the second storyboard. “This spot uses animation with two cartoon characters,” you explain. “A thorny briar bush complains to a skinny poison ivy vine. The briar bush is furious, exclaiming: ‘Those darn Billy Bob Bush Busters ruined me down to the roots!’ Poison ivy responds, ‘Tell me about it!’ The conclusion reads: BILLY BOB’S BUSH BUSTERS—NOT RECOMMENDED BY WEEDS.”

“Both of those spots are solid,” you say. “But take a look at this third one.”

The third storyboard depicts a real chimpanzee riding an off-road bike through a challenging landscape of thorns and swampy pits. The chimp is joyfully hooting as it maneuvers through the obstacles. You read the text and conclude with: BILLY BOB’S BUSH BUSTERS—FOR CHIMPS, NOT FOR CHUMPS.

You note that the agency conducted focus group testing with off-road bikers. “The first two spots received favorable feedback,” you share, “but the chimp spot outperformed them significantly in brand recognition and intent to purchase.”

The Pitch—Closing the Deal “So that’s our recommendation. What do you think, Billy Bob?”

Billy Bob hesitates, clearing his throat.

“Well, I’m just not a fan of chimps—they’re smelly creatures. But this morning, Mrs. Billy Bob had an idea.” (He pulls out a crumpled piece of paper.)

“Let me share this commercial concept with you.”

(INSIDE YOUR HEAD: Oh no, here we go.)

You feel as though Mike Tyson just delivered a punch to your stomach. Yet, you manage to remain composed. This situation requires deft handling—simultaneous acceptance, gentle rebuttal, and a dash of persuasion. You begin by opening the floor.

“Absolutely, Billy Bob—we welcome great ideas from anywhere. I’m eager to hear it.” (This is disingenuous, as agencies pride themselves on originating all creative concepts. Clients produce the products, while agencies craft the advertisements. That’s the end of the story.)

You endure Billy Bob’s lengthy explanation about his wife’s idea of including a packet of weed seeds with each pair of boots.

“You see?” Billy Bob explains. “A customer can grow their own weeds—those sticky burrs. Then, they can wear their Bush Busters and tear through the weeds on their bike.”

If the CEO isn’t completely self-absorbed, he’ll notice the disheartened expressions and averted gazes around the table. Hmm. My team thinks this idea is terrible.

You might not even need to say a word.

“Well, perhaps that’s a poor idea. Could you show me that chimp storyboard again?”

Throughout my advertising career, I encountered a few clients who attempted to impose their own (or their spouse's) ideas—but thankfully, none succeeded. Yet, countless creative directors can’t make that claim, cringing as they recount their own experiences.

In the early '90s, I worked with a client who never interfered. Alan Silberstein was the EVP of Retail and Marketing at Midlantic Bank, a tenacious regional bank in New Jersey. He was perhaps the most astute client I ever collaborated with—a metallurgical engineer with an MBA from Harvard. He was a dream client. The briefs he provided were always clear and strategic. His responses to creative proposals were prompt and decisive. “That’s fantastic — let’s proceed.”

My agency enjoyed a fruitful partnership with Midlantic, and our campaigns significantly contributed to the bank’s growth. Perhaps we did too well? In 1995, PNC Bank acquired Midlantic for $3 billion. As a result, we found ourselves sidelined, with PNC utilizing a large agency for their advertising while we managed the smallest bank in their portfolio. Thus, our story with Silberstein concluded.

Fortunately, he and I have remained in contact over the years, exchanging calls and emails regularly. Before the pandemic, we met for lunch each month to discuss one topic: Innovation—in all its forms.

Last week, I received an email from him with the subject: cartoon idea

Hi John,

Carol has an idea that Trump on a golf course could be likened to Nero playing the violin. However, we’re struggling to find the right execution and we can’t draw. Could you elevate this concept?

Happy Thanksgiving! Alan

Eavesdropping on My Thoughts Damn! The creative director’s nightmare—“the client’s wife has an idea.”

Initially, I considered ignoring the email, thinking, If questioned later, I’ll just say: “Oh, sorry—I must have overlooked that one.”

But then I reconsidered: Alan is a good friend—don’t be rude—just do a quick sketch…

A Note on Ideas Carol’s concept—Trump/golf course/Nero/violin—doesn’t represent an actual idea. Instead, it describes the space where the idea resides. I envision vivid descriptive phrases—like Carol’s analogy—as an “idea corral.” They define an enclosure resembling a corral. Within its boundaries, countless ideas roam like untrained horses. Most of these idea ponies will be uninspired or predictable. Some might even be outright poor. Yet, among that chaotic mix of equine energy is a vibrant brainstorm—a spirited stallion eager to be discovered.

As the creative director, your role is to locate that stallion.

Here’s How It Unfolded I began experimenting with the concept using a sketching app on my iPad, allowing my thoughts to flow as my stylus danced across the screen.

Hmm. Something set on a golf course…

Trump’s golf bag engulfed in flames…

And, of course, HE started the fire…

Hmm. The raging flames resemble the Covid-19 pandemic. He’s hoping the escalating disaster will distract Americans as he claims nonexistent voter fraud—and attempts to undermine the election and the Constitution…

Wait! I should label the golf bag as CONSTITUTION…

Hmm. Carol mentioned Nero’s violin—I’ll add a fiddle to the flaming bag…

And place a fire extinguisher in the caddy’s hand…

But Trump doesn’t want to use it…

As I worked, I began to think: Sonofabitch, this is actually pretty good.

At that moment, my wife glanced over my shoulder at the iPad:

“Wow! I love that!”

So, thank you, Carol. It’s consistently intriguing to witness the elusive creative process evolve into a final product.

LIFE LESSON: Here’s some enduring wisdom for every creative individual: Embrace a good idea wherever it appears.

After all, an idea left unused could result in a missed opportunity.

Create well!