64 Weeks Art Director, 1 Week Copywriter – By @G_Medford

By Christopher Medford


64 Weeks Art Director, 1 Week Copywriter


If you had told me when I was sixteen that in my late twenties I would be still in education and would find a love in writing and eating dessert with the deputy leader of the labour party, I would have thought you were trying to wind me up. Literally when I was a teenager I had zero direction and nobody to look up to. I left school and went into hospitality, where I was diagnosed with dyslexia; this was a turning point in my life. I had previously thought I had no other options but to work on my feet all day inside of a busy kitchen but my diagnosis gave me hope, a purpose and the confidence to believe that I could go on to do something else that I had more passion for and enjoyed. 


Over a decade later and I find myself almost in the same position, changing my career path to something I have an even greater passion for. Being creative and creating things nobody has thought about is what I live for but even now I weigh myself down with limitations, never quite believing I have all the tools to achieve. Due to a lack of confidence in my ability to use the English language, I have never really explored or celebrated my own writing, preferring to use other people’s words to aid me. This week however, I pushed myself to go the extra mile on the path of personal development and signed up to a creative writing class with Caroline Hampsted. At first I was quite nervous, but after we got stuck in doing the first exercise, I’m not sure if it was the size of the group that we were in, or just listening to everyone but I felt okay. When it was my turn to read what I had written, I didn’t feel as shy and the feedback that I received seemed to give me a boost I had been lacking. 


Although my dyslexia diagnosis gave me the confidence to pursue more in life, knowing that I simply viewed things a bit differently and that it was no barrier to my creativity, it also reconfirmed my perceived limitations when it came to writing. It was medically proven that writing wasn’t my thing. Through this amazing experience I am learning to push myself and stop holding myself back on things I have just accepted to be true.


I would like to thank Caroline for the amazing experience and to all that attended.


Some of the exercises from the session. 


(A poem)


I remember waking up, and being surrounded by blue walls and over my bed a hot air balloon light shade.


I remember the view from my bedroom window, where I could see the M6 in the distance next to the RAC building, looking like a shiny rock in the morning sunshine.


I remember the smell of my mother cleaning the house,a strong odor of Magnolia & Vanilla shake n vac sitting on the carpet waiting to be hovered.


I remember being taken to the arboretum to see the illuminations, being amazed by the bonfire,fireworks and all the lights on the tree.  


I remember going to see my father, and the sound of formula one cars echoing out of the house before we even knocked on the door.


I remember the stack of car parts and miscellaneous items on my fathers kitchen table and how he had a plan for everything.


I remember sitting on my dad’s lap in his jaguar for the first time, as he let me steer it onto our road and onto the driveway.


Story Writing Exercise – from pictures we had chosen 


Picture of the berlin wall – two sets of hands reaching for barbed wire


The air was still as we moved through the foledge, moving as quietly as possible so as not to bring any unwanted attention, even though it was 4am we knew there would be security patrolling the area, This sat heavy on our minds for we have come this far and it would be such a waste of resources if we had been caught now. And then it hit us, something that we didn’t plan for or anticipated, they had made a clearing surrounding the compound to ejected a 8ft concrete wall topped with barbed wire, without thinking we both knew what we had to do. 


Picture of a horizon-  two tire tracks in the desert


The smell of petrol seeping through the cracks of the helmet, filling the cabin as the rev needle bounces off the limiter, the speedometer climbing and gears jamming as the world vanishes into a fine line on the horizon, this vehicle capulsates me from time but not from thoughts.I peakout the side of the visor to see everything has become a blur and the speedometer freezes,unable to move and no more gears to shift, a crackle over the radio to says pull the handle to stop.


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