Writing about kids, travel, creativity, and what it means to do something well.
The best lessons aren't taught—they're lived. Growing up, my dad never sat me down for heart-to-hearts or life advice. Instead, he took me fishing. We'd stand in cold rivers before dawn, not saying much, just being there together.
Somewhere along the way, we decided that losing was bad for kids. That disappointment was something to shield them from. That everyone deserves recognition just for showing up. This is insane.
Three weeks in Marrakech taught me more about patience than a decade of meditation apps ever could. The heat, the chaos, the constant negotiation—everything moves at a different pace here. You either surrender to it or go crazy trying to control it.
Everyone in advertising keeps talking about storytelling. But most brand books read like instruction manuals written by committee. The best one I ever encountered? It was actually a novel. Specifically, Charles Portis's True Grit.
I'm supposed to be productive right now. There are emails to answer, decks to review, people waiting on me. Instead, I'm sitting on my back porch, watching the fog roll in, doing absolutely nothing. And it's the best decision I've made all week.
My daughter doesn't know what "brand voice" is. She's never sat through a workshop about tone and manner. She's never seen a voice chart with axes for "playful" versus "serious." And yet, she's got the clearest, most distinctive voice of anyone I know.