BrokenJPG

A Copywriter’s Blog
It all makes sense now. Ben Levy 10, March

Ira Glass on Storytelling from David Shiyang Liu on Vimeo.

Also, this is going to be the reason and excuse for every short story I write between now and my 40s.

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My wife contacted me at work a few weeks ago to tell me her swing dancing medical school classmate was going to be in a Sean Kingston music video.

Unbelievable.

Being a doctor is a profession which requires massive amounts of time and focus. So much so that simply answering the ice breaker “what do you do for a living” provokes awe and respect at the dinner table.

The same could be said of, say, a world-class swing dancer. The sort who would make it into music videos. It is absolutely unnecessary that any one person should qualify as both. I cannot believe that any one person would be so greedy as to achieve both.

Attention Doctors: you’re doctors.

And that should be more than enough for you. I understand that by definition you are all well-educated and extremely driven individuals. I get that. That’s fine. Of course you can excel at a hobby or two. The Wife, for example, is quite a good baker. My father, the anesthesiologist, routinely codes full programs. I know other doctors that are fine sailors, have a flair for interior decoration, or paint beautiful art.

But none of them had the gall to achieve professional-level success in a second field.

Do you know how many people suck at doing a single thing in their lives? How greedy do you have to be to first achieve the greatest wish of everyone’s mother and then go further still? Did you give even a moment’s thought to how damning that is for the rest of us?

I mean it was bad enough when the rest of us had to introduce ourselves as copywriters, accountants, or pet psychics before. How we’re supposed to compete with a bunch of super doctors who are also famous actors is beyond me. I don’t care what the nature of the competition is- if their PhD shows up on IMDB, we lose.

So all you greedy, overly-talented doctors can cut it the hell out. You’re making me depressed. And I’ll be damned if I have to go to you and ask for a prescription for it.

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