How poetry launched my advertising day job

I found this image of a typing table described as "antique." It is the same style of table and manual typewriter I used during my first advertising job at Marshall Field's!

The recession was still raging after two years of my pushing around a book cart, wearing a smock at Marshall Field’s department store, post college graduation. There were no openings in the store’s art gallery as I had hoped. My thoughts of becoming a gallery or museum curator were quickly evaporating.

One of the exciting aspects of working in the book department was its regular public book signings, hosting such luminaries as novelist Gore Vidal, hairstylist Vidal Sassoon, conductor Sir Georg Solti, thinker and inventor Buckminster “Bucky” Fuller, baseball great Yogi Berra, former NYC Mayor John Lindsay, actor Bob Hope, chef Julia Child and many others. All arrived because each had just written a new book, be it fiction, a cookbook, autobiography or philosophy, giving my then callow self a chance to meet and interact with these successful writers from varied professions. 

In addition to customers, certain employees from different departments would often gather around to purchase books and get them signed by the visiting authors. Among the regulars was Mary Ann, the copy chief from Marshall Field’s advertising department, who I also greeted and chatted up a couple of times while she waited in line to get her books signed.

“Marshall Field’s has an advertising department?” I later asked one of my coworkers. “Where do you think all the newspaper ads come from?” one answered. “You mean all the ads in the Chicago Tribune and Sun-Times come out of here?” I said. “Yeah, they don’t use an ad agency. The advertising department is in-house,” she answered. A light went on.

Before long, I found myself taking the escalators up to the advertising department on the 9^th floor, holding a small sheaf of my poems. I asked the advertising department receptionist if I could see Mary Ann. When she came up to small waiting area, I stood and explained how I was interested in working in the advertising department as a copywriter if they had an opening.

“We don’t have any openings now,” Mary Ann said. “In fact, we just hired a new person.” I suppose I looked a little downcast, but mostly embarrassed. Was I out of my league here? “Do you have an advertising degree?” she asked. 

“I don’t,” I said. “I have a degree, but it’s in art history.”

“You don't have a degree in English?” she asked.

That smarted. What did I think I was doing up here! “I don’t have an English degree, but I’m a writer,” I said. 

“You’re a writer?” she asked, dubiously. “Do you have a portfolio?”

“I have written these poems,” I said. “Maybe you can read them.”

“Poems?!” she said, looking incredulous, but trying not to be rude at the same time. She let me hand them off to her as I extended the sheaf sheepishly her way.

“I appreciate you coming up here, and I know you’ve been working in the store for awhile, but I’m not sure poetry quite matches up with what we’re trying to accomplish with our advertising copy,” she said.

I thanked her for her time, took the escalators back down to the book department and felt totally humiliated from making a fool of myself. I later avoided sitting anywhere near her if I saw her in the employee lunchroom, as I was embarrassed by any of my earlier suppositions that I’d be the least qualified to work in advertising. If I saw her getting onto an escalator, I waited until she was far enough away for me to get on, too, without her seeing me. And when she visited the book department on occasion, I gently tried to sashay the other way or find a reason to duck into the stock room.

One day, someone told me I had a call waiting on our interdepartmental phone. I walked over and picked up the receiver. It was Mary Ann. “Cynthia, can you come up to the advertising department sometime today,” she said. “I’d like to talk with you.” 

“Sure,” I said. “I have a break in another half hour. I’ll stop up.” I hung up and tried to catch my breath. What did she want to tell me? I didn’t know what to expect.

When I arrived up by the advertising reception desk, Mary Ann again came out to greet me. “We have an opening in the copy department,” she said. “Someone just left. She took a new job at an advertising agency.”

“She did?” I said, not knowing what else to say.

“I read your poems,” she said.

“You did?” I said, not ever feeling she would even glance at them after I had handed the sheaf off to her several weeks before.

“They’re actually quite good,” she said.

“They are?” I said.

“I think you have potential,” she said. “And because you already know the store so well after working here a couple of years, I’d like to give you a chance if you’re still interested.”

A chance? Yes. As a copywriter? Yes. Yes, I was still interested! I started a couple of weeks later, sitting at a desk and typewriter in a room among 10 other copywriters, an all-women staff from whom I learned so much, hung out with after work and formed friendships with. I wrote newspaper ads about shoes, jewelry, cosmetics, purses, lingerie, even books. What a thrill to see my copy in print in Chicago’s newspapers. Almost as exciting as seeing my poems in print (but not quite!).

The break I received at Marshall Field’s was the start of my career as an advertising writer. This chance continually fueled my livelihood over the decades. It’s still hard for me to believe even today that a small sheaf of poems, but mostly a generous woman willing to take a chance on me, has made such a huge difference in my life. Thank you, Mary Ann! 

If there’s anything I have to share with others about this experience is this: When breaks come, be there for them. When the desire of your heart fires up, follow it. When opportunities and meetings of people arise, follow through. As the songwriter Steve Winwood wrote, “While you see a chance, take it!” Not everyone or even anyone will have the same experience I did, but you will most definitely have your own experiences, your own chances, your own opportunities. Be humble but upfront in pursuing them. Make the most of them!

Excerpted from my creativity guide, memoir and reference "Frugal Poets' Guide to Life: How to Live a Poetic Life, Even If You Aren't a Poet"  

◦

How poetry launched my advertising day job

How poetry launched my copywriting day job

The recession was still raging after two years of my pushing around a book cart [at Chicago's Marshall Field's department store], wearing a smock. There were no openings in the store’s art gallery as I had hoped. My thoughts of becoming a gallery or museum curator were quickly evaporating.

One of the exciting aspects of working in the book department was its regular public book signings, hosting such luminaries as novelist Gore Vidal, hairstylist Vidal Sassoon, conductor Sir Georg Solti, thinker and inventor Buckminster “Bucky” Fuller, baseball great Yogi Berra, former NYC Mayor John Lindsay, actor Bob Hope, chef Julia Child and many others. All arrived because they had just written a new book, be it fiction, a cookbook, autobiography or philosophy, giving my then callow self a chance to meet and interact with these successful writers from varied professions.

In addition to customers, certain employees from different departments would often gather around to purchase books and get them signed by the visiting authors. Among the regulars was Mary Ann, the copy chief from Marshall Field’s advertising department, who I also greeted and chatted up while she waited in line to get her books signed.

“Marshall Field’s has an advertising department?” I later asked one of my coworkers. “Where do you think all the newspaper ads come from?” one answered. “You mean all the ads in the Chicago Tribune and Sun-Times come out of here?” I said. “Yeah, they don’t use an agency, the advertising department is in-house,” she answered. A light went on for me.

Before long, I found myself taking the escalators up to the advertising department on the 9^th floor, holding a small sheaf of my poems. I asked the advertising department receptionist if I could see Mary Ann. When she came up to small waiting area, I stood and explained how I was interested in working in the advertising department as a copywriter if they had an opening.

“We don’t have any openings now,” Mary Ann said. “In fact, we just hired a new person.” I suppose I looked a little downcast, but mostly embarrassed. Was I out of my league here? “Do you have an advertising degree?” she asked.

“I don’t,” I said. “I have a degree, but it’s in art history.”

“No degree in English?” she asked.

That smarted. What did I think I was doing up here! “I don’t have an English degree, but I’m a writer,” I said.

“You’re a writer,” she asked, dubiously. “Do you have a portfolio?”

“I have written these poems,” I said. “Maybe you can read them.”

“Poems?!” she said, looking incredulous, but trying not to be rude at the same time. She let me hand them off to her as I extended the sheaf sheepishly her way.

“I appreciate you coming up here, and I know you’ve been working in the store for awhile, but I’m not sure poetry quite matches up with what we’re trying to accomplish with our advertising copy,” she said.

I thanked her for her time, took the escalators back down to the book department and felt totally humiliated from making a fool of myself. I later avoided sitting anywhere near her if I saw her in the employee lunchroom, as I was embarrassed by any of my earlier suppositions that I’d be at least qualified to work in advertising. If I saw her getting onto an escalator, I waited until she was far enough away for me to get on, too, without her seeing me. And when she visited the book department on occasion, I gently tried to sashay the other way or find a reason to duck into the stock room.

One day, someone told me I had a call waiting on our interdepartmental phone. I walked over and picked up the receiver. It was Mary Ann. “Cynthia, can you come up to the advertising department sometime today,” she said. “I’d like to talk with you.”

“Sure,” I said. “I have a break in another half hour. I’ll stop up.” I hung up and tried to catch my breath. What did she want to tell me? I didn’t know what to expect.

When I arrived up by the advertising reception desk, Mary Ann again came out to greet me. “We have an opening in the copy department,” she said. “Someone just left. She took a new job at an advertising agency.”

“She did?” I said, not knowing what else to say.

“I read your poems,” she said.

“You did?” I said, not ever feeling she would even glance at them after I had handed the sheaf off to her several weeks before.

“They’re actually quite good,” she said.

“They are?” I said.

“I think you have potential,” she said. “And because you already know the store so well after working here a couple of years, I’d like to give you a chance if you’re still interested.”

A chance? Yes. As a copywriter? Yes. Yes, I was still interested! I started a couple of weeks later, sitting at a desk and typewriter in a room among 10 other copywriters, an all-women staff from whom I learned so much, hung out with after work and formed friendships with. I wrote newspaper ads about shoes, jewelry, cosmetics, purses, lingerie, even books. What a thrill to see my copy in print in Chicago’s newspapers. Almost as exciting as seeing my poems in print (but not quite!).

The break I received at Marshall Field’s was the start of my career as an advertising writer. This chance has continually fueled my livelihood over the decades. It’s still hard for me to believe even today that a small sheaf of poems, but mostly a generous woman willing to take a chance on me, has made such a huge difference in my life. Thank you, Mary Ann!

If there’s anything I have to share with others about this experience is this: When breaks come, be there for them. When the desire of your heart fires up, follow it. When opportunities and meetings of people arise, follow through. As the songwriter Steve Winwood wrote, “While you see a chance, take it!” Not everyone or even anyone will have the same experience I did, but you will most definitely have your own experiences, your own chances, your own opportunities. Be humble but upfront in pursuing them. Make the most of them.

The excerpt above is from my reference, memoir and creativity guide Frugal Poets' Guide to Life: How to Live a Poetic Life, Even If You Aren't a Poet. 

Note: Looking back, I sometimes feel like my experience was similar to the character Peggy Olson on the Mad Men TV show, ie. someone drawn from the office pool to dive into advertising copywriting. Four years and two jobs after Marshall Field's, I finally did land a job in an actual advertising agency. 

◦

How poetry launched my copywriting day job

Finding my first book -- Night Ribbons

After my son marked his third birthday, I felt ready not only to take a small breath after raising a son from a baby to toddlerhood, but also mark a few beats to focus on my next creative leap. I was 35 years old. I had some general hopes and ideas, but little did I know that this would became the year my first book of poems, Night Ribbons, was published.

I thought it was so late in my life in "getting started," although I had been writing poetry for 15 years. It was true that I had given readings all over Chicago, had numerous poems published in small press magazines, but had for many years longed to get my first book published. I sometimes thought it would never happen.

My previous readings and publications came in handy when I drummed up the nerve to apply for artist's grant from the City of Chicago. My step-by-step background served as documentation of my poetry career up until that point. It's what helped me land the grant to fund the publication of my book. I was surprised, thrilled and relieved.

But now to put the actual book together. Riffling through 15 years of poems was an interesting venture to find just the right ones that would help pull the collection together. I focused on four different subcategories to group the poems in the book, almost like chapters: Women of Day and Night, Chicago Days and Nights, Donde Hablan Espanol (Where They Speak Spanish), and Ancient Days, Faraway Nights. These four themes seemed to distill what I had been working on those first 15 years of my writing life.

Gathering poems into themes for Night Ribbons became a lifelong practice for my other books. Although Night Ribbons carried four themes, my subsequent books narrowed down to carry single themes: Earth Elegance (poems  about animals), Swimmer's Prayer (poems about Chicago), and Omnivore Odes: Poems About Food, Herbs and Spices. My nonfiction reference/memoir/creativity guide Frugal Poets' Guide to Life: How to Live a Poetic Life, Even If You Aren't a Poet also carries its own theme. 

At my Night Ribbons book release reading at Guild Books on Lincoln Avenue in Chicago,
I served black and red licorice, and bottles of cheap champagne

◦

Finding my first book -- Night Ribbons

Create Your Own Stay-at-Home Writing Retreat

If you’ve ever been away from home at a writing retreat, you know how rich and valuable those special days can be in helping push your work forward in a vibrant way. At writing retreats such as the Writers Colony at Dairy Hollow in Eureka Springs, Arkansas, I was able to write in one day as much as I would in seven if at home under my usual schedule of a day job, commuting, evening family duties and just living my life. Writing retreats, as well, are enriching experiences by just being in another location, surrounded by different cultural and natural resources for you to experience when you aren’t writing.

Staycation vacations are becoming more popular today as gas prices rise, time away from work harder to pin down and the cost of one-the-road food and lodging pricier. Why not instead create a stay-at-home writing retreat in a similar fashion to a staycation. Writer Beth Barany, author of The Writer’s Adventure Guide: 12 Stages to Writing Your Book, brought up these stay-at-home writing retreats in a recent article.

Stay-at-home writing retreats don’t have to be the week-long to month-long endeavors of away-retreats. Each can be comprised of just a couple of vacation days, a long weekend or even one day a week if that’s feasible with your schedule. If you have children, make it a day when they’ll be at school, in daycare or with grandma. Barany makes progress on whatever novel she’s currently writing by going on such localized writing retreats every Friday and Saturday. She works in three, one-hour writing stints over the course of each day. And instead of doing all her writing at home, she often café hops through her neighborhood, writing for an hour, then changing locations. She may go to another café, or perhaps the local library or diner.

Barany’s readers offered some great ideas of their own on other neighborhood locales conducive to writing, such as a patio with a bubbling fountain, a bookstore or an art gallery where you can sit down, even parking your car where you can get an ocean or lakeview, or at least within earshot of surf tickling shore. One reader said she was just getting ready to take a six-hour train ride (her half-day home?) – which she said “sounds like a retreat of sorts to me!” Another suggested preparing a special home-cooked meal at the end of a retreat day, complete with a celebratory glass of wine.

As I’ve mentioned before, I enjoy taking hiking, walking or yoga breaks in between writing stints when I’m away on retreats. These same jaunts or stretch times can take place right out your own front door, as well. I also like taking breathers from my writing sessions with mandala breaks. Anyone can create a mandala. You don’t have to be an artist. Find a nearby table where you can spread out your materials. Draw a circle on a piece of paper using a compass, grab a small set of colored pencils, mark the center of the piece with a bold dot, and work up a colorful world of meditative wonder within your circular border. You can create a small, simple mandala in a half-hour – refreshing your mind by using another part of it that’s devoted to visuals and hand-and-eye connections – before you move back to your laptop or notepad for more writing.

Evenings during your stay-at-home retreats are great times to turn off the TV, close down your computer and get some enjoyable reading done – books of poems you’ve meant to read, how-to books on writing, a bestseller to get lost in. Before I hit the hay on retreat, I like to take a gander through a telescope or binoculars at the moon or planets that may be visible on a clear night, sit by a fire, or loll in a music-enhanced bathtub soak I usually don’t take time for. Retreats, whether at home or away, are times to not only nurture your writing, but also nurture yourself.
◦

Create Your Own Stay-at-Home Writing Retreat

Frugal Poet's Guide to Planting Copies of Your Book During Your Travels

If you are a published poet, I think the most important items to bring along on any out-of-town trip or vacation, but which also might weigh the most, are copies of your book or chapbook. When you visit new cities or towns, these destinations have bookstores that haven’t seen your work.

After you introduce yourself, the bookstore owner or manager may buy a couple copies from you outright or take some on consignment. If the bookstores take them on consignment, face the possibility you may never see any money sent cross-country from their sale. Be humble. Just be content that your books have found an additional home where you can send interested parties you meet along the way. Also, different cities may have open mics where you can read your poems and sell your books to audience members who like your work. Or you might meet other writers who simply want to exchange your book of poetry for theirs. It’s a great way for you to expand your poetry tastes and personalize your experiences out of town.

You might also want to donate a copy of your book to the local library of the place you’re visiting. Introduce yourself to the librarian. Tell him or her why you’re in town, and personally hand off a copy of your book for their circulation shelves. You never know who might pick up your book and read it. One of my books “Swimmer’s Prayer” had found itself in one of the Los Angeles libraries. Turns out the poet Charles Harper Webb actually picked up, perused and checked out the book from the library. Before long, he wrote telling me he’d like to republish my poem “Deb at the Ham Slicer” in an anthology he was editing for the University of Iowa Press called Stand-Up Poetry: An Expanded Anthology. Suddenly, I was being published in the same anthology as Billy Collins and Charles Bukowski!

See what I mean about using a book or chapbook as a calling card? The point is to bring your books along on your travels, but to lighten your load along the way. Force yourself to sell or give away every single book so you have none left by the time you wind your way home. You might become a Johnny Appleseed of sorts, but of poetry. Instead of planting apple seeds (and future trees) where ever you wander as Johnny Appleseed did, you will instead plant your poems along your traveled path. If they take seed, you will grow new readers, audiences, and possible future readings and publishing opportunities.

And if you don’t yet have a book or chapbook, then simply use a calling card. A business card that you either craft yourself from a template and print on a laser printer, or purchase from one of the “free’ services online that only charges postage is the “poor poet” way to go. The card should contain at least one url link: to your website, blog or other electronic page where one or more of your poems appear. It could provide a link to the purchase of your poetry e-book version, if you have it available for Kindle or Nook. Hand out this card to interested parties and/or fellow poets you meet in your travels who would want to read your poems. It’s also a way to make new Facebook friends and build correspondences with those who share your interests from other parts of the country, or world.
◦

Frugal Poet's Guide to Planting Copies of Your Book During Your Travels