Page One.

It's Friday, and I have a big meeting with a very big client today.  There's an agency between me and the client--and there's a lot of work being presented--a lot of thinking--but I am the only creative in the mix.

That means I had to do what I do best.

Toil.

No, really, toil.

Not just the "exalted" thinking. The kind people fantasize about when the enter what used to be the ad-business. But the grind-it-out things, that in the parlance of sports, "don't show up in the boxscore."

Writing scores of ads, manifestos, blog-posts, TV scripts and more. Filling a giant deck-worth of worth the money. 

Today, if you're on the ball, you don't just have to be better than other writers, you have to be better than AI, too. The AI threat is always looming. Like the steam-drill was always staring down John Henry.

It's unusual in the ad business these days, but my work--the creative bits--were done early. About 48-hours before the client meeting. The head of the agency sent me the deck just about two hours ago. I made a copy nibble here and there, but essentially my work was complete.

Then, I realized something.

Something I didn't like.

We had done exactly what was asked of us.
Exactly as we promised. 
It's all good, artful, sound, strategic and plentiful. 

But something is missing. 

That feeling nagged at me.

We had done everything that was asked of us.
And we did it well.

But that's not enough. 

It never is.

We are launching a new brand for a giant company. We've got all the doodads that do that.

But we didn't have the gasp.

We didn't have the jaw-drop.

We didn't have the awe.

The more-than-they-ever-expected.

The image that sears.

I'm an old-man now. 

I might even be past my expiration date.

I certainly feel that way sometimes, when my aches and pains and heartaches and "lack-of-mattering" overwhelm me like a wave a kid's sand-castle.

But I learned something this afternoon as I tried to beat-back what I saw as a gap in our meeting.

If you're doing work for a client--whether you're an auto-mechanic, a circus act, or an obstreperous copywriter, you should give yourself a brief.

You should hold yourself to a brief. And a standard.

How do I get my work on page one of the deck?

Page 1.

How do I carry the meeting within the first two minutes?

How do I start with a crescendo and build from there?

How can I open like Bellini opened "Norma"?

Then keep going--for two hours after the open.

That's our job.