Brainstorming: A New York State of Mind

At some point in your career (if you haven’t already), you’re going to find yourself in a conference room full of people staring at a blank white board of promise. There’s nothing more intimidating than all that white space—and the realization that at some point, you’re going to be expected to contribute to filling up that open horizon with idea after idea to jump start a brand or new project.

I didn’t attend my first brainstorming session until many years after college. I’d graduated during a deep recession. No one was getting jobs, especially recent college graduates with no experience and BS degrees. I spent those first years after graduation making ends meet and bouncing around law firms, hoping against all hope that one day the seas would part, and I would finally—FINALLY—get a writing job in my chosen field.

Six long years later, it happened: I landed a position as a marketing specialist with a multimedia company in New York. After a bumpy flight north from my hometown in the Deep South, I found myself in a NYC conference room … surrounded by illustrators, web designers, project managers, and high-ranking VPs.

At 27 years old, I don’t know what I expected walking into that conference room green as the day was long. I’d worn my best professional-looking dress, black stilettos, and had my hair piled high on top of my head in a bun. Studious was the look I was going for, what with my designer glasses at the ready, a blank notepad and assorted pens hidden in my arsenal. I slid into the plush rolling chair in the executive conference room and readied myself to do business.

Imagine my surprise when my fellow co-workers entered the room in tattered jeans, football sweatshirts, and baseball caps. One scattered an armful of children’s toys in the middle of the conference room table. Another hoisted a Nerf ball hoop up and over the main door. Yet another walked in dragging a bean bag chair, a ball glove, and a baseball. I sat there stunned. Was I at work … or day care?

I learned a lot that day about a great many things, the least of which is that you don’t show up to a creative brainstorming session dressed like you’re headed to a pre-trial hearing. For the record, I was the only one who ended up sitting at that table. The rest of the crew bounced around the room, shooting hoops and lobbing ideas left and right. Before the day was over, my hair was down, my note pad scribbled, and my heart full.

I’d found my people.

And l was never going to be the same.

All these years and a million sessions later, I still carry a stack of pens and a blank notepad into every brainstorm I attend. But I now go armed with my favorite coffee mugged in one hand and a kid’s game secured safely in the other. I prefer a room with a view— for inspiration, of course—and my favorite Georgia Bulldogs sweatshirt draped non-chalantly over my shoulders. You will, of course, still find my hair piled high in a bun on top of my head, though …

makes all those Nerf baskets I’m going to swoosh a lot easier to see.