A TVC Treatment Writer Has an Every Day Carry? You Bet. Here’s Mine.

tvc-treatment-writer-edc-featured

A TVC Treatment Writer Has an Every Day Carry? You Bet. Here’s Mine.

I don’t always know when the next TVC treatment project will land in my inbox.

It could happen in the middle of the night while I’m sleeping.

Or at 0430 when I’m working out at the gym.

It can happen when I walk down the street to grab a coffee. A production house calls. I answer. Let me grab my coffee, get a seat and I’ll be right with you.

Am I at the mall? Yeah, sure. Just let me find a quiet spot so I can focus on our conversation about the treatment and what I need to know about it.

So how do I give directors and production houses my full attention, my best work, a winning treatment – when I’m not at my desk?

Simple. I have an every day carry (EDC). It lets me work in places that I hadn’t planned on working from. It lets me start on more projects – even if it’s only to have the initial conversation – when I’m not at the house.

So what’s in my TVC Treatment Writer EDC? Let’s take a look:

tvc-treatment-writer-every-day-carry

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In clockwise order from top-left:

My TVC Treatment Writing notebook. Yes I actually carry this with me. Usually. If it’s summer and I’m not wearing something that will carry it, it’s the first thing that gets left behind. I do like to carry it because it acts as somewhat of a short-term memory for me. If I’m in a conversation with a director or production company and I’m recording the call (which I usually am) the notebook comes in handy to jot down brief questions I have about the treatment, the approach, deadlines, etc. It’s also handy for highlighting important parts of the conversation so I cam be sure to really hone in on them when I revisit the recording.

My TP-LINK 10,000 mAh Power Bank. Have you ever called me on my cell phone with a treatment writing project and my cell phone dies on us? No you haven’t. And that’s not just because you’ve not called me yet. I simply refuse to let my phone die. Period. So this little backup charger will bring my Samsung S5 from completely dead to 100% five times over. Go on, call me and talk as long as you like. Aside from keeping my phone charged for conversations, it lets me start a treatment on my phone. It’s not my favorite way to start writing a treatment, but if a deadline is tight and I’ll be away from the office for a bit knowing I have this sort of backup makes it easier to get a treatment started.

A pair of RayBan sunglasses. I carry these because my wife hates them and I’m afraid that, if I leave them unattended, I’ll never see them again. They pre-date our marriage her by roughly two years. You could say we’re committed. They have absolutely nothing to do with my work as a TVC treatment writer.

Leather wallet. If I’m in a locally owned coffee shop, they get a bit weird if it’s been 4 hours since you bought your coffee and you’re still sitting there. Talking. Listening. Writing. So I figure it’s a good idea to keep “keep the meter running” and buy more coffee if I’m in an establishment for an extended period of time. Also it carries my ID and a few other cards that make life easier. Usually.

Swiss Army Knife. Not much to do with being a treatment writer, however this thing has been keeping me company long before my RayBans. I had actually lost the knife a bunch of years ago and thought it was gone forever until the TSA kindly put my carry-on bag through an X-ray machine and found it for me.

Olympus WS-300M Digital Voice Recorder. This is the real deal. I’ve seen people holding these at news conferences. Not only does it record audio in amazing quality, it also stores files as well. So if I get a conference call emailed to me and I need to take that project on-the-go, I can move the conference call to the Olympus and listen to it on the road. Or in a coffee shop. Or in the living room if that’s as far as I make it.

Zebra G-301 Gel Pen (black). During a treatment writing project, I tend to take a lot of notes. And my handwriting sucks. Unfortunately, there are only a handful of pens that actually make my handwriting legible – even to myself. The one I like best is the Zebra. It writes like a hot knife in butter. Smoooooth. It’s got a steel barrel with a very proud button that has plenty of action on it. You might think I’m weird, but when I’m focused on a conversation about a treatment, I don’t have time to wonder if I clicked the end of the pen far enough.

The Key to my 2004 Volvo XC90. If all else fails and I can’t find a decent coffee shop or eatery to sit down to take a call, this is my fall-back. Actually, if I had my choice, this would be my office. Which would make sense because I also spend a lot of time writing about it. The seats are comfortable and with Spring just around the corner here in Canada, you just might find me spending more time in it away from the office – but still ready to take your call at a moment’s notice.

Timex 100-lap Memory Digital Watch. I like to write in short bursts and then take a break. The best way to track my time is by setting a timer that let’s me know when to take my break. My watch also tells me when is 0345 – which is when I typically wake up to go to the gym. I also set it if I have a scheduled call with a director or production company about a TVC treatment writing project.

The only thing you don’t see in the pic is my phone and a charging cord. I took the picture with the phone. But you probably figured that out, right?

So that’s it – the EDC of a treatment writer. Pretty simple, actually, but it lets me work from just about anywhere. I really never knew what an EDC was until earlier this year when I started listening to the Jocko Podcast. Now I think about what makes a good EDC for me. It’s possible that it may get modified (I’m actually considering losing the RayBans).

Got a project for a TVC treatment Writer. Call me. I’m ready. Apparently. Just don’t call me when I’m at the gym. That’s a no-treatment zone.

 

 

 

No Comments

Sorry, the comment form is closed at this time.