The best creative work you'll never see

I had coffee with a university student earlier this year who wanted to break into marketing and creative communications work. She asked the classic question: how do you get started?

People always imagine there’s a tidy route in, a sort of laminated map that tells you which steps to take and when. I had to laugh, because my path looks more like a tube map drawn by a toddler.

I have A-levels in French, Chemistry, and Economics, plus a degree in Environmental Biochemistry. Not exactly the heroic origin story of a creative director. My career has zig-zagged its way through agencies, small start-ups, consulting firms, and global corporations, picking up odd influences along the way. There was no blueprint. No grand plan. Just a series of opportunities where I thought, yes, I can build something there.

But the one thread that has never changed is the urge to create. I’ve had it since I was a kid. I see it now in my own children when they’re building Lego rockets or experimenting on my guitar. It’s the same impulse that pushes me today, whether I’m shaping a story, crafting a policy, or using AI to sculpt words and visuals in new ways. Creativity in communications isn’t a job title. It’s a habit of mind.

Creativity isn’t always where you expect it

And this was the real point I wanted her to hear. The most impactful creative work is not always the loud stuff. It’s not the global campaigns, the celebrity moments, or the shiny things you boast about at industry events. Especially in large corporations where these sexy projects often bring out the worst of people - trust me, I have seen it.

Some of the most fulfilling projects I’ve ever worked on were the quiet ones. The ones tucked away behind the scenes. Internal policies, ethics codes, recruiting strategies, leadership programmes. The topics that tend to sit beneath the glittering surface of a company and quietly determine who they are.

These are the projects where culture is shaped, whether you notice it or not. And the people who work on them are often the most thoughtful, curious and genuinely collaborative. They care about the work itself, not simply the chance to be seen.

The projects that stay with you

At Novartis, I had the chance to lead the creative and communications for the global Doing Business Ethically policy and the relaunch of the Code of Ethics, working with some of the friendliest and most humble people I’ve met. On the surface it sounds dry, but it was some of the most human work I’ve ever done. How do you take something complex, serious and traditionally difficult to bring to life and make it accessible, memorable and emotionally resonant. That’s creativity.

Before that, at Bain & Company, I helped overhaul the global recruiting brand. Not just the website or the messaging, but the experience itself. We reimagined those familiar, slightly dreary business-school presentations and turned them into something immersive, warm and reflective of the actual culture. It was about bringing truth to life, not adding a layer of gloss.

None of this was “sexy” work. You don’t pitch it at Cannes. You don’t stick it on a giant billboard. But these projects linger with you because they matter. They influence how people behave. They make the abstract tangible. They can even make consulting feel cool, and certainly the people I worked with were.

Finding freedom in constraints

The older I get, the more I appreciate constraint. The small briefs. The tight guardrails. The jobs other people avoid because they look too fiddly or too serious. These are the assignments where you genuinely need to think. Where you need to find an idea with real clarity. And that, ironically, is where you often find the most freedom.

Anyone can make noise. Anyone can fill space. It takes craft to make something simple, clear and true.

A final thought for anyone starting out

So if you’re just beginning your creative career, don’t wait for the glamorous brief. Don’t assume creativity happens only on the biggest stages. Look for the projects that require care, patience and a bit of nerve. The stuff people underestimate. The quiet problems no one else has solved.

That’s where you learn your craft. That’s where you build your instincts. And that’s where the joy is.