How to Turn a Midlife Crisis into a Three-Book Deal You Fund Yourself
There comes a moment in every ad person’s life (okay, maybe just mine) when the smell of dry-erase markers and the sight of another brand purpose PowerPoint becomes unbearable. I wish I could say mine arrived, one morning, somewhere between my third coffee and the 174th slide of a Brand Essence Pyramid. That suddenly it hit me with the clarity of an overdue epiphany.
But it didn’t. In recent years, I’d slowly fallen out of love with the job. Decades before, I’d worked hard to break into advertising and for many years, I had a lot of fun as I worked hard to be a successful creative guy. But the copywriter’s role has changed. The democratization and endless fascination with technology over idea means copywriting is no longer what once was. Not worse. Just different.
What dawned on me was that I’d spent decades helping corporations sound human. Maybe it was time to see if I could write fiction and create characters that sounded human.
That’s how I started writing a book, Half Made Up, the first in my ongoing genre fiction series, The Misjudgements of Andy MacKay. It’s the adventures of a man who drinks too much, gambles too much, and thinks he’s smarter than he is. (Any resemblance to people in advertising, living or dead, is purely coincidental.)
It wasn’t a calculated career change. It was creative combustion. After years of tight deadlines, client feedback, and meetings where the word “authentic” was pronounced like a sacrament, I wanted to see if I could do it. Could I write something with no brand guidelines. No approval matrix. No key messaging. Just story.
Something people would want to read.
Oddly enough, advertising had prepared me for it. But the truth is anyone, at any age, can start writing their first novel.
Admit You Have a Story Problem
The first step to writing a novel, especially after years of crafting 30-second ads, is admitting your brain has been trained to persuade instead of imagine. Every time Andy MacKay walked into a bar, I caught myself writing taglines for the whisky bottle.
You know. “Jameson. For when your moral compass has already clocked out.”
But fiction doesn’t sell; it seduces. In advertising, clarity reigns. In fiction writing, ambiguity is king. I’d spent my entire career honing economy of language, writing shorthand. In campaigns, you distill. In novels, you expand.
Strangely, that economy of language remained a vital skill. But more on that in another essay.
If you’re wondering how to start writing a book, begin by unlearning the habits that keep you from storytelling. The good news is my career had already taught me how to find meaning in the mundane. Writing fiction is just that. Except in fiction the chicken tender gets a tragic backstory.
Ideas Aren’t Rare. Commitment Is
People often ask, “Where do you get your ideas?” as though writers have secret warehouses stacked with inspiration. The truth is simpler: ideas are everywhere. The challenge is persistence.
Andy MacKay wasn’t invented. He showed up one day, a man with a military backstory muttering his cynical half-truths, staring down the barrel of life-and-career cul-de-sacs. Here’s how to start writing your first piece of fiction. Start with the voice that won’t leave you alone. For me it was a version of myself. For you it might be someone you wish you’d told off years ago. Maybe it’s your neighbour who keeps Christmas lights up until April.
If you’re thinking of writing your first novel, don’t wait for inspiration. Listen. Write. Keep listening. The difference between aspiring writers and authors is simple. The latter kept typing after they realize it isn’t going to be easy.
Treat It Like a Job (Because It Is One)
Stephen King says, “Amateurs sit and wait for inspiration, the rest of us just get up and go to work.” For him, writing isn’t magic. It’s a job. I agree with him when he says, “What separates the talented individual from the successful one is a lot of hard work.”
After a career writing advertisements, I found that oddly comforting. I already knew how to show up, manufacture ideas on demand, and survive crushing indifference with a smile. The only difference was that now my client was me.
I approached my book like a campaign. The first draft was a bunch of half thoughts that went gloriously off-brand. But I kept at it. Every morning, I clocked in, wrote until the coffee tasted like it had been strained through a decathlete’s socks, and clocked out.
The trick isn’t inspiration. It’s routine. Whether you’re 25 or 65, the best writing advice for beginners is this. Write even when you don’t feel like it. Treat your book like work. The good sentences show up once the bad ones clear the runway.
The Tyranny of the Blank Page
If you’ve ever stared at a blank Word document and felt the cursor stare back, you know the unique terror of facing the blank page. It’s like a job interview with God: “So, what do you bring to the infinite void?”
Advertising trained me to work within constraints: 30 seconds, 90 words, a logo the size of a watermelon. In fiction, there are no constraints. No KPIs. No client. Just you and a blinking cursor.
The solution? Invent your own critic. Mine was an imaginary creative director, always Scottish, always disappointed. Every morning, he asked, “Where’s the work, Dunlop?” And slowly, painfully, something resembling a story emerged.
If you’re new to creative writing or starting your first self-published book, remember that the tyranny of the blank page is just fear wearing a different hat. Start typing, and it loses its authority.
From Copy to Character: What Advertising Accidentally Taught Me
Advertising is, at its heart, about people. You learn what they want, what they fear, and how they lie to themselves. Writing fiction is the same. only the lies are longer.
Years of writing to tight word counts taught me economy of language. Every word must earn its place. That’s invaluable in novel writing, where every line of dialogue should reveal character or move the plot.
The real gift of advertising was learning to listen. You can’t write good copy if you don’t understand how people talk, and you can’t write believable characters if you don’t understand how they lie. Both crafts depend on empathy disguised as cynicism.
Great ad copy and great prose share one thing: rhythm. In advertising, you persuade people to buy something. In fiction, you persuade them to believe something. Both are acts of human storytelling.
Why Write a Book at All?
Because eventually, helping brands find their voice isn’t enough. I wanted to find my own. Copywriting is a fantastic apprenticeship for writing. It teaches discipline, audience awareness, and how to kill your darlings. But it also burns through your creative reserves.
For many, that’s the real reason to start writing a book later in life — to rediscover curiosity and surprise yourself again. And here’s the truth. It’s never too late. The stories you’ve lived, the mistakes you’ve made, the awkward conversations you’ve survived. All of it is gold when you sit down to write a book.
Whether you’re learning how to write a novel at 50, exploring creative writing after retirement, or just want to try self-publishing for beginners, you’re already more prepared than you think.
Your Turn: How to Start Writing Your First Book
If you’ve spent years writing for someone else, you already have the tools to write your first book: persistence, discipline, and an instinct for story. The hardest part isn’t learning to write. It’s giving yourself permission.
Start small. Write one page. Then another.
Steal time. Early mornings, late nights, lunch breaks.
Be stubborn. Talent is overrated; persistence isn’t.
Embrace imperfection. Every first draft is a crime scene; the rewrite hides the evidence.
Whether you’re in a midlife reinvention, starting over, or finally chasing that dream of writing and publishing a book, your only deadline is mortality.
The Misjudgements of Andy MacKay: A Case Study in Self-Publishing
Writing The Misjudgements of Andy MacKay taught me that stories aren’t born. They’re excavated. One sentence at a time. The same habits that made me a capable advertising copywriter (discipline, empathy, brevity) now keep me going as a novelist.
The difference? I’m writing for myself now. No brand to protect. No client to please. Just a story that insists on being told.
If you’re considering how to self-publish your first novel, take heart. The process is chaotic but deeply rewarding. You’ll make mistakes, learn the ropes. If you’re like me and lucky, you’ll rediscover why you started writing in the first place.
Don’t wait for permission
Creativity doesn’t retire. It just changes shape. Writing a book after a long career isn’t a leap. It’s a continuation. I’m still telling stories. I’m still connecting. Only now, all the words they told me to cut are mine to keep. You have all the rope you need to hang yourself.
If you’re lucky, somewhere between the blank page and the first draft, you’ll rediscover the thrill of saying something no client would ever approve. But that someone, somewhere, might truly need to hear.
For more reflections on creative writing, how to write a novel, and the self-publishing journey behind my ongoing fiction series, The Misjudgements of Andy MacKay, visit my YouTube channel. Coming soon.