Pivoting to a Different Place, Figuratively and Literally

It’s exhausting here.

On why I’m transferring to Substack and being burnt out as a professional writer of over a decade.

The Great Consolidation: Why I’m Pivoting to Substack and Professional Cheerleading Instead

For a long time, my career has felt like a relationship that was over years ago, but I’m just going through the motions because I’ve been in it for so long. I’ve been trying writing about things I have little to no interest in, creating copy for industries that are not exciting or innovative, for a consistent paycheck and mostly, if I’m honest, to get to the retainer stage. Even freelancing for magazines, I find I’m pitching stories based on the news cycle or pitch requests vs. topics I’m passionate about. A lot of that is not the editors’ and companies’ fault as much as what people want to consume and what drives the algorithm.

Apparently, I’m not interested in writing about what mainstream media audiences enjoy. It’s really my bad. Not theirs. See: a relationship that lost its fizzle, right down to that signature “it’s not me, it’s you” speech.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m immensely grateful I’ve been able (in the past) to write for and about amazing brands, work with fantastic editors that did publish stories I was excited about; like puppet makers/creators that vanished, Black gay tech icons you’ve never heard of, fancy wallpaper for dominatrixes in a British series about a famous detective, a melodramatic ’80s cartoon whose finale was collectively remembered wrong, and scary TV shows and movies with fabulous interior design.

However, the consistency of interests between myself and dear readers infrequently aligned.

The combination of the clients and articles was also a recipe for burnout. A burnout that came gradually rather than as a forest fire. That is why I am moving my energy — and my writing interests — to Substack.

Looking Back to Move Forward

[embed]Grrrrrr…… TIGGAAAAAAH

In regards to that burnout, I’ll explain how that happened, or more how it felt when it first started, while I was still working in the agency world. It got to the point where, job-wise, I just felt like I lost the plot.

After a particularly taxing day at the corporate HQ or ad agency du jour, come dusk, I would often find myself sitting alone at home staring at my mustard wall blankly. Contemplating. Could my current job be driving me crazy? Do I despise this latest account I’m on? The signs that led me to the conclusion that my career of choice, at the time, was in fact the root of all evil and sending me spiraling out of control into a deep, bottomless pit of self-loathing were as follows.

Morning routine: Before coffee and the morning commute, I took to reciting a very recent mantra in the bathroom mirror: “I’m a tiger… grrr. I’m a tiger… GRRRR! I-AM-A TI-GAAAAAAAAAH!” When I glanced at my own reflection, the eyes looking back had the intense gaze of a homicidal mule.

Evening routine: After a particularly taxing day at the office, I would, more often than not, find myself at home in full karate garb, and immediately I felt more… powerful. Usually, this was followed by three bottles of Shiraz, a reenactment of Fist of Fury, and then, complete and utter exhaustion.

And then, you know, the only thing I was left pondering wasn’t, “How did I get here to this state?” But instead: “Why did mustard seem like a good choice for the living room?” and, most importantly, “Whatever prompted the purchase of said karate kit?” As I was more than aware, I have NEVER actually studied any form of martial art in my whole life.

Make mustard make sense

That’s when I knew: the time is now, old friend. I needed a change. Yet, that change took at least another six years to come to fruition.

How I Got from There to Here

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Over the last several years, I’m proud of the pieces I’ve written for publications I admire, from Architectural Digest and Gizmodo to Inverse, Miami New Times, The Hollywood Reporter, Field Mag, and High Country News. I owe a massive debt of gratitude to the editors who shaped my path — folks like Rachel Wallace, James Whitbrook, Rose Cefalu, Chandra Turner (aka the Talent Fairy), and Hiko “The First Echo” Mitsuzuka. They taught me how to tell those stories better.

But as I step into this new chapter, I’m taking those lessons with me, combined with the skillset developed in the agency trenches — the art of selling, of which I grew particularly effective.

One of the pillars of my new Substack is a series called **“Creative Confidential,”* where I will dig into my interview archives to revisit old what I liked to call “little chats” on Zoom calls (always audio-only so I could stay in my pajamas) — like the one I did with Alex Winter for MiMP, long before the latest Bill & Ted* film hit the screen.

Revisiting these conversations is fascinating; it’s an opportunity to see if those creative folks had that “special sauce” required to turn an idea into fruition. By looking at how their plans manifested, I hope to uncover the roadmap for how we make creative things happen succesfully. I’ll be dropping one of these from the archives every week or so. Also, for the most part, I thoroughly enjoyed talking to most of the actors and actresses, appreciated their work, and was nosy about their roles, shows, and characters. I only agreed to do these interviews if I was able to choose the subjects myself.

I also found it strangely entertaining, lounging around at home, chatting on the phone to discover what was in store on some cool shows and how they went about making their decisions. Mainly because most of them, by default, were the opposite in personality to me; they were the shiny, bubbly people. They were OK being in front of a camera, getting emotional in front of a crowd (or crew), and comfortable being the center of attention. All the things I hate, but I have always been fascinated by people who can do them. I have friends like that — they are amazing to witness!

Many of my friends would ask, “How come you never make the effort to go and do a proper interview at a coffee shop or by turning the camera on Zoom?” To which I always replied, “I like the anonymity of it; just a friendly chat on the phone always got my best results.”

Also I’m just better on the phone, not in person.

Now Enter the Dark Bambi

So, if I’m not writing as much now, what am I doing? I’m launching **Dark Bambi**, where I can champion people like that, creative types and my friends.

In fact, a couple are my friends.

People keep asking me, “So what is it, exactly?” Management? PR? Art consultation? The answer is: sort of. Think of it as a “Creative Support Animal” to Creative Artists.

After 17 years working for brands like Samsung, Apple, and Panasonic, directly andthrough agencies, or collaborating with incredible clients like the American Heart Association and Me In My Place, I’ve come to a realization: I do my best work when I am cheerleading for other peopleQ Not myself. I just so happen to be able to help them scale their work or business objectives and create their brand identities with data and strategies. Which, as you can imagine, is rather handy.

The Humble Brag

I’ve also perfected the subtle art of the “humble brag.” On the Substack, I’ve dedicated an entire section called “Creatives Accomplishments.” It’s exactly what it sounds like: a space to highlight what my creative clients are doing, how they are growing, and their achievements and wins. I’m also digging into the past to tell the occasional fun story from agency life, sets, or run-ins with talent and entertainers in the city of LA when I lived and worked there, because there were some weird doozies for sure.

The Substack is free, it’s live, and it’s where you’ll find the archives, the updates, and the celebrations of the people I’m honored to work with. I’d love for you to join me there. There will also be lots of nice pictures. Just ‘cause.

👉 **Click here to subscribe to Dark Bambi on Substack** — let’s see if we can make it possible to disgard that karate suit FOREVER!