I wrote my first ad when I was seven years old. It was for a made-up contact lens product, because clearly the world needed better vision. I didn’t know what a “copywriter” was, but I figured if I could convince imaginary people to buy imaginary products, I was on the right track.
By ninth grade I was interning at a boutique agency in Jacksonville, putting labels on hot sauce bottles. It was there I learned the first rule of advertising: sometimes the only thing holding a brand together is glue.
My first real job in the industry was at BBH New York, but not as a creative. I started on the account side, managing projects and trying to decode what signals hair, whisky, and laundry detergent send. I quickly realized I wanted to be the one making the work, not just scheduling, shepherding, and debating it — so I went to portfolio school and came back as a copywriter. It was the kind of decision you can’t justify on paper, which is probably why it worked.
Since then, I’ve chased this career through agencies big and small, partnering with brands like American Express, Nike, Walmart, Coca-Cola, and Burger King. I’ve pitched work that won, pitched work that lost, and occasionally pitched work that made everyone tilt their heads like a confused Chihuahua. I’ve also pitched ideas (plural) that technically neither won nor lost — they just kind of disappeared into the ether, like a murmuration of balloons slowly flying away.
Along the way, I’ve collected close to a hundred awards. Which sounds impressive, until you realize none of them can be traded for groceries, babysitting, or even a free Scotch.
What I’ve learned is that advertising is a strange business. You fight for fragile ideas until they’re undeniable, strong enough to fight on their own, and then you send them out into the world — where they’re either ignored completely or maybe plastered to the side of a bus.
In the nicest way possible, people say I argue too hard for the work but still apologize to furniture after bumping into it.
Beyond work, I’m a vegetarian, an animal lover, and a long-suffering fan of the Jaguars, Gators, Magic, and Red Sox — which basically means I’ve built a life on disappointment and hope. I like my food spicy and my Scotch neat, because ice feels dishonest.
But the truth is, none of this matters without my friends and family (even if they still describe my job as “advertising”), and especially my wife, daughter, and our popos (dogs). They are my center of gravity, the reason I keep going, and the best reminder that there are more important things in life than headlines, deadlines, or Cannes Lions.
At heart, I’m still that kid in Jacksonville inspired by the industry. Only now the ads are real, the clients are real, and the hot sauce bottles already have labels. If there’s a through-line, it’s this: I started in advertising because I loved it, and somehow, after all these years, I still do. Which is either proof of passion… or Stockholm syndrome.
Thanks for stopping by. Feel free to call me at 904.631.2951 or email me at bnkumar@gmail.com.
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