Sometimes you have to shut down the salesman in you.
And let the writer take over.

I have forever pondered on the question of writing long ads. Not that I worry about the number of readers. But, the object of my perpetual apprehension is the speed with which advertising is evolving. We've progressed to a stage where a multi-million dollar campaign is cooked up in a matter of days. Quite evidently, the idea of swimming against the tide or reincarnating the good old days has become irrelevant. Further, I am disinclined (and disinterested) to argue the merits of writing long ads. Because, I know their replacement is not a matter of advertising disintegration or lack of taste. It’s the course of time. And who am I to argue with it? Anyway, my issue is personal. I feel like a dinosaur: slow, indulgent and stuck in time. I love chewing words, long as I like, relishing every morsel. I know the time is against me. I know the threat of extinction is real. I know moving forward is the only way. Yet, I shut all the signals deliberately. Empty my minds of foreboding. And, pick up my pen to write. This ad was forged out of these very moments. I loved writing, rewriting and editing this ad till it was perfect. (though I might not be the best judge of my own work.)