Artie Isaac | Net Cotton Content

To a committee approving creative

"To a committee approving creative"? What the heck does that mean? Here's what that means: if you are a member of a team that is reviewing the work of a creative person -- such as a writer or graphic designer -- then this message is for you.

As a writer, I was asked recently, "How do you want to receive feedback from everyone on the committee?"

Here's some ideas for how to provide that feedback...

Rainmaking at Chester Willcox

During the past 16 years, Young Isaac has enjoyed working with law firms of all sizes. The legal business has evolved into a marketable industry as the legal canon permits more expressiveness -- and as lawyers themselves recognize that the competitive legal marketplace rewards those who lever intelligent, attention-getting, ethical marketing.

Some of the work we've done is for Chester Willcox & Saxbe. Click on the little photo on the left to see some strategically sound, refreshingly different new airport advertising.

So, while I've been working with lawyers, I've always admired those that know how to develop new business...

Young Professionals of Columbus live more creativity

Last night, the Young Professionals of Columbus let me speak on How to Life a Creative Life. Those that were there might enjoy reviewing some of the slides -- just click here.

If you weren't there, you might consider joining the Young Professionals of Columbus. If you are young. And professional.

If you want to know more about my creativity teaching, check out the creativity syllabus for my MBA class at the Fisher College at The Ohio State University.

Just Showing Up

Yesterday, I sat with a potential client at a beloved university. Young Isaac had already sent our credentials package. We'd made the telephone calls. We'd submittted the RFP response. But we haven't been invited to start working.

I didn't get it. This potential client says they like our work and how we think. We have done award-winning, effective work for their sister college. But no work. Not yet. For months.

So, I called and asked for a meeting. Yesterday was the meeting. All I want to ask, I said, is, "Are we missing something here? What don't we know about asking for your business?"

Truly Wireless (for now)

Today marks one week since, after a meeting, en route to my car, I dropped (by accident, it slipped from my holster) and kicked (by coincidence, I was in full stride) my Treo.

At first, I was sad for being so clumsy and hopeful that the Treo wasn't truly damaged. It looked good and I'd dropped it a couple times before without injury.

By the time I reached my car, I knew that the unit was truly broken. All its functions were fine (phone, email, etc.), but the keyboard wasn't working completely. I couldn't type 13 of my favorite 26 letters in the English alphabet. "Ths sx," I thought, "nw, i hv 2 typ lk a IMr."

No way. I'm not typing like an IMer. Somewhere there is a diploma on the wall that claims I studied English. I need all my vowels as much as I need all my bowels.

So, off went Treo -- away for repair or replacement. What will happen to the Treo is not my first thought today: My first thought is what has happened to me.

Getting to Now Me

Years ago, I missed seeing a smart fellow around the community. We had been trustees on a not-for-profit board and he had disappeared from the monthly table. So I called and we went to lunch.

He told me that his wife was seriously ill. Quite in love with his wonderful wife, he had decided to focus on only two things: wife and work. He stepped away from everything else, such as board commitments and teaching. He made all his time available to enjoy life with his wife. He said, "It's been a great decision."

I asked sincerely, "Should I make that same decision now? Or should I wait, heaven forbid, for my wife to be ill?"

His words: "Make the decision now. Don't wait to be forced into the decision. It would be all the better a decision without the pressures and anxieties of illness."

His words reminded me that I was living life as a pinball, rather than as a flipper. A pinball accepts all invitations, dutifully responding to every request. A flipper makes choices about life's moment-to-moment direction. I wanted to become a flipper.

The Last Question

Jason Torpy, an MBA candidate in our Creativity Class at The Ohio State University, has a way of cutting to the quick. In our attempt to get to know each other, he asked me a question that challenges me. (Our class deliberations are confidential. Jason has authorized this story telling.)

Don't just ask the old late-night jaw-boner: "What would you die for?"

The real question, Jason teaches, is "What would you kill for?"

A veteran who has recently returned from Iraq, Jason is articulate about his perspective:

Basically, people can altruistically say all the great things they would die for. The more interesting question, especially in conversations with pacifists, is "What you would kill for?" And are there different rules if the killing is hand-to-hand, with weapons, with bombs, if you've been ordered, or if you've just helped those who are killing?