Thinking of changing careers but you're kinda scared? Girl, read this.

A personal account of my journey of switching careers in my 30's and the most important lessoned I learned during the process.

Ignore. Soar. Repeat.

As a little girl watching the tv series Bewitched, I dreamt about one day working in advertising. After the show, I would make mud pies and pretend I was creating a commercial for my mud pie clients. I wanted to have Darren Stephen’s job. But it didn’t stop there— I imagined that when I grew up I would wear my hair in a tight bun, and for some reason, a navy-blue pencil skirt. Once I was done with the presentation, I would serve chocolate chip cookies and mud pies decorated with dandelions. What a detailed imagination I had.

When I grew up, I accomplished my goal and worked on the account side of the ad agency business. But I found something interesting about myself. It seems I had a knack for writing really good headlines, just like the copywriters. Better yet, sometimes I came up with some even better layout ideas to support my headline. "Could I actually do this for a living?", I thought wistfully while watching the creative teams at work. Soon I would be put to the test.

One of the agency's accounts was a well-known beer brand. The head of marketing was the heir apparent to the beer family dynasty. When he called, we dropped everything. One day he called. He needed a poster idea for their newest beer brand. It would be in liquor stores all around the nation and would be given away on campuses. Oh, and he wanted concepts on his desk the next day. It was all hands-on-deck, but I already had a few ideas of my own as I listened to the Creative Director during the download meeting.

Although I was green back then, I still knew that submitting my concepts would be met with subjective judgement— I wasn’t a “creative” after all. The Creative Director was an ego maniac and no matter how good the concept was, my lowly status in the department trumped any consideration.

I wanted to find a way around this challenge, so I approached a very busy Art Director about submitting my concepts under his own name. I showed him my polished sketches. “You did this?” he asked in a very surprised tone. “Yes!” I replied sheepishly. “So will you submit this as your own?” I asked. “Hell yeah!” he replied, going back to his pile of work. Well, you guessed it. My idea “won”. The CD picked 3 concepts to show, and the beer heir picked mine. I was ecstatic. I felt validated but not enough to speak up and confess the idea was mine. I felt that the CD would have been pissed had he known, and the AD who helped me would get into trouble. So, I let it pass, and focused on the budgets and estimates. Yawn.

Over a decade of being on the account side, I finally had enough of not being my true self. I was tired of the bun in my hair and having to deal with the more difficult clients. I wasn’t being my "authentic self", as the big O would say. I decided to do something about it, but I needed advice first. I had met with approximately 7 Art Directors who I had worked with in years past. I showed them my amateur portfolio, I spoke of my experience, and told all of them my victorious beer mogul moment. After my speech, I asked them the big question. Do you think that I could possibly make a successful switch to the creative side? Six of them told me NO. It was too late in my career to go back to art school (I was in my 30’s) and even if I did, it would be better to go to a “proper” art school like Parsons or the Creative Circus in Atlanta.

I was very discouraged. I really didn’t want to meet with # 7, but I liked him, and was looking forward to catching up. His name was Paul, and he was an amazing award-winning Art Director. With no inkling of an ego in sight, and a sparkle in his coffee-colored eyes, he told me to go for it. “Whose permission are you asking for, exactly?” he asked wisely. He was right. I only needed my own. I did beat the odds by actually achieving a childhood dream of working in advertising— an amazing feat for a girl from the San Luis Valley. But doubts tried to overtake me as I thought of the other people's (well-intentioned?) opinions. I remembered a story my Dad told me, that, in a nut shell was about not listening to others opinions. It has always stuck with me. “Screw it.” I gave myself permission. I enrolled in a one-year certification design school and hoped for the best.

Years later, after becoming an award-winning Art Director myself, and being promoted to a Creative Director, I thank God I ignored those 6 Art Directors. I think back to all the fun campaigns I would have never been a part of, all the friends I never would have made, all the achievements/awards I never would have won, and all the happiness I would have denied myself. More importantly, I also realized that it really wasn’t Darren Stephens who came up with the campaign ideas…if you paid close attention, you saw that it was Samantha, his wife who came up with the campaign ideas. Amazing what experience reveals to you once you look a little closer. And it’s also amazing that my earlier story of the AD who agreed to my submission shenanigan actually parallels the Bewitched storyline (Samantha submitting for Darren).

So what or who do you need to ignore? Who are you listening to, when you really shouldn’t? Did I think I might end up being a horrible Art Director who didn’t know how to design? Yes. Did I think that no one would hire me due to my lack of talent or “proper schooling”? Frightfully yes. And was I disadvantage in any way, by not going to a proper school? Yep. But I went on with it and so should you.

There’s an inner challenge that you feel when someone says “no” or questions your ability to do something. You can’t explain it, or see it, but you can definitely feel it. You want to prove them wrong. You believe in yourself— It’s that “chingona” inside of you. That strong river that runs below the river— El Río Abajo Río*. We all have it. Don’t ignore that feeling, but do ignore the naysayers.

Now excuse me as I go make some more mud pies. I have a writing career to pursue. Ignore. Soar. Repeat. * Women Who Run With The Wolves, Clarissa Pinkola Estés