Mutant Rape Baby

One of the most frustrating things about being a writer working for a very large, very corporate company is trying to write within the standards of certain brand restrictions. My job is something that I am very thankful to have, but also causes me so much pain and anguish daily that it’s turning my thinning hair grey.

Let’s take a look a look at one of my weekly if not daily heartache’s:

I am given a lackluster assignment (my junior status doesn’t necessarily help this cause)that no one wants, but I am thrilled to get.

I see maybe just the tiniest bit of wiggle room to try to be funny, smart, clever and get very, very excited. I spend the rest of the day creating and massaging it into existence.

I present my work to a room full of people who could truly care less about such a lowly assignment. I get vague feedback and when I try to clarify, I am more confused than ever.

I continue, polishing and preparing.
I present again to a smaller creative team who takes out their red pens of fury and proceed to murder and mutilate my baby.
My work is then touched, raped and changed by dozens of dirty, account, lead, and production hands.

We present a monster.

It’s approved, but the client wants to rape it a bit more.
I meanwhile sit quietly, holding back tears as I watch my once beautiful baby be defiled knowing there is nothing I can do about it.

The rape/mutant/baby goes live and sells tons of product


But hey, this is the career path I started and I’m not turning back. Plus I have a lot of debt thanks to ad school.