I used to sign my name "Amanda C. Peterson, author and artist" on letters, papers, homework from about the third grade on. A pretentious move, to say the least. But I was one of those snotty little gifted students that were reading Shakespeare and Freud in grade school just to prove I was superior. Man, I deserved all those ass-kickings I took.

My father wanted me to be a film director. After school, he'd sit me down, hand me a joint, an editing box and a spool of 16mm film. "Reedit FIVE FINGERS OF DEATH into a silent comedy or no McDonalds for you." I'm sure everyone can relate.

My mother wanted me to do something that made money. "Writers are always poor. Don't you want to be a journalist or something?" she said as she sewed buttons on Mr. Ferley's vest for the next day's taping of "Three's Company."

Somewhere around 5th grade, I realized that people that make ads must both draw and write, because I saw lots of cartoon ads. That was certainly the career path for me.

When I told my grandmother, she nodded and smiled. "Everyone here either goes into the mob or advertising." Yes, sweet Chicago.

I got a degree in advertising from the University of Illinois at Champaign-Urbana. I worked at a student agency, put a book together, moved to San Francisco and interviewed.

Well, interviewed is a strong word. Let's just say, gave agencies a good laugh when I sent it in and took rejection well. I landed a gig as a production artist at Goldberg Moser O'Neill fixing Dell legal type in mechanicals and cutting foamcore.

So I went back to school. Was told I was a better copywriter than an art director. Changed by book around. Got an MFA. Got a job as a copywriter at a sinkhole agency.

A sinkhole agency is one that says, and often believes, that some day they're going to be the next big thing, but miraculously never is. They get big projects and screw them up. Or get small projects and do great work and then think that they're gonna win a Clio for a B-to-B direct mail piece for a cheap Italian wine. It's not an agency that anyone would ever recognize. Or that would ever do TV.

I worked Christmas eves and late nights and read goodnight stories to my one-year-old over the phone from my desk while I proofed copy.

So, after two years, I told them I wasn't gonna work late nights as much. And I got laid off. "It's 9-11, you know."

I went in-house for a large retailer. Reasonable hours. No timesheets. All the layers of middle management you can eat.

I won some silly awards. Reorg'ed the department to be based on the agency model. Within a year, I went batty.

"If I never make another ad again in my life, I'll be happy," I remember saying to my art director as we took a two hour lunch contemplating how to make a "buy two get one free" bra ad creative *and* family-friendly.

Now, I work in branding. I name companies. I write package copy. I establish brand voice for agencies to follow. I do brand audits in which I grade how well agencies stay "on the brand" through campaigns.

I also teach copywriting -- which lets me get all the new ad excitement without any of the 2am, gotta get the revisions to the pub stuff.

But I'd be lying if I said I wouldn't kill to be smoking cigarettes at a desk full of terrible ideas on tracing paper with an art director trying to figure out how to get a poodle with a chainsaw into a muffler TV spot just to make ourselves laugh.