meg mcmahon

My relationship with my first Creative Director was one great tug of war. We held back very little from one another, cared equally as much about the work, and were both very, very stubborn. Looking back from where I stand now, it's easy to see that we were all too similar, my first CD and I. This makes perfect sense because he was, of course, my dad.

My first CD worked for a graphic design shop in downtown Hopkins, Minnesota for 8 years. Upon my entrance to the 1st grade, he was promptly promoted to Executive Creative Director of My School Projects. Though I had no say in the matter (and sometimes wish I had), there is no one who has shaped me as a creative, and as a person, more than he has. 

From the early days of Book Fair Posters and dioramas, he was fully on board, and without question, always there to help. If I felt a mistake ruined my work beyond repair, he was there to save the day with the perfect solution. I trusted him, his creative vision, and his ability to solve problems big and small.

Lesson #1: Through his demonstration of encouragement and hands-on support, my first CD taught me to trust my creative partners, and, in turn, to be the kind of person teammates can rely on, too.  

Somewhere between first grade and fifth, I became a little smarter, a little more protective over my creative agency, and a little more angsty. I still revered and trusted my dad, but now sifted his every word through a thick filter of dubiousness. During this stage of my creative career, we often disagreed, my first CD and I. Even though I’d asked for it, I had no problem telling him if his advice was all wrong. Many a late school-night was a stand-off–– often ending with one or both of us walking away from the kitchen table to get some space, or head upstairs to vent to HR (mom).

The best nights though, were ones we settled into a back and forth volley–the way only the best collaborators can. My dad loved to discuss what he liked to call “The Universal Statement,” and to him, no essay was complete without one. My brain would twist and turn itself into knots around such lofty sentiments, we’d haggle over the semantics, and then somehow, all at once, it would fall cleanly into place on the page.

Lesson #2: You will not agree with your co-creators on everything, all the time. Good creatives produce good ideas. Great creatives, however, know collaboration is the key to producing truly great ideas.

My dad took great joy in helping me research my school projects, and even greater joy in helping concept and create them. He was especially fired up by competitions that “we” would enter at school, and was always very eager to know the grades “we” received. While I pored over my poster boards, he would say, like an incantation, that “Less is more.” Without hesitation, he’d point out everywhere there should be “less,” until my mockups were pared back to his liking. As much as I hated to admit it, my work always looked better after his review… 

When it came to revising my writing, his incantation was: “Read it to me again.” And while I read and re-read the fragments and run-ons out loud, he’d sometimes close his eyes, as if it helped him better absorb or measure the words. My dad was present and attentive to me and my writing, and genuinely wanted to see it become the best it could be.

Lesson #3: There is honor in all work, and honor in a job well done. My first CD showed me the importance of taking pride in, and giving my full presence to every stage of the creative process.

Few can outpace my dad’s hustle. Between his 9-5 grind at the office, and his full-time gig as a father, he was constantly in motion. Most nights, he came home only to keep working as Executive Creative Director to the homework of not one, but five little gremlins. While this might send others running for cover, my dad took it all in stride.

My school days are long gone, and his stints as CD to my personal writing are few and far between. But the wisdom he imparted? That’s very much alive in my everyday life. My career as a writer in advertising was really the only natural progression of things after spending nearly two decades under the wing of my first CD...after all, I am my father’s daughter.