I never expected fatherhood to change my creative work — but it did, not by forcing me to reinvent myself, but by helping me see the world in ways I never had before. It reshaped how I tell stories, how I connect with audiences, and how I create work that doesn’t just inform — it feels something.
Before becoming a father, my creative work was often driven by aesthetics, concepts, and technical precision. I focused on crafting compelling visuals, punchy campaigns, and powerful narratives — but they were just that: narratives. They lived outside of me, carefully curated and refined.
But fatherhood has a way of breaking down those walls. Suddenly, storytelling wasn’t just about crafting ideas — it was about capturing moments that mattered. It became about preserving memories, sharing wisdom, and creating something that my daughters could carry with them long after I’m gone.
Seeing Through Their Eyes
My daughters have an incredible way of reminding me what wonder feels like. The simplest things — the way sunlight dances on a puddle, or how a bug crawling on a leaf becomes a grand adventure — become stories in their eyes. Their curiosity fuels mine, challenging me to see the world not as a professional, but as a child again — where everything feels bigger, brighter, and more magical. That perspective has changed my photography, my writing, and even my music.
For creatives and marketers, there’s a lesson in this: the key to emotionally resonant storytelling is not complexity — it’s simplicity. Strip away the jargon, the overproduced layers, and the push for perfection. Instead, embrace authenticity and human emotion. Ask yourself, How would a child describe this? That’s often where the purest, most relatable ideas emerge.
For example, when photographing my daughters at the beach, I noticed they didn’t marvel at the horizon or the crashing waves. Instead, they were mesmerized by seashells, tiny sand patterns, and the feel of wet sand beneath their toes. That moment reminded me that audiences connect most deeply with the details that feel personal.
I applied this same thinking to an underwater regulator shoot for a scuba diving equipment brand. Instead of focusing on the regulator itself, we shifted the story to highlight the experience — the feeling of weightlessness, the serenity of gliding through the water, and the way the regulator allowed the diver to become one with the environment. By shifting the focus from the product to the emotional experience it enabled, we created a campaign that resonated far more deeply with divers who weren’t just looking for gear — they were seeking a connection to the ocean. Since then, I’ve approached my photography and storytelling with this mindset — focusing on those intimate, immersive moments — and the results have been far more impactful.
I applied this same thinking to a sports training brand campaign focused on football training products. Our goal wasn’t just to highlight the gear — we wanted to create content that deeply resonated with players, coaches, and parents of athletes.
Instead of showcasing flawless drills or idealized performances, we dared to show the struggle — the moments when self-doubt creeps in and progress feels impossible. We featured a player battling frustration, making mistakes, and feeling defeated. But instead of stopping there, we leaned into the emotional arc — capturing the quiet yet powerful moment when a coach steps in, encouraging the player with unwavering belief. We showed the determination that followed — the sweat, the repetition, and the grind that most people never see.
Through sharp, emotional jump cuts, we wove these moments together — the frustration, the coaching, and finally, the triumph. The final shot captured the pride in the player’s face, matched by the coach’s quiet smile — a connection built through hard work and belief. The campaign didn’t just speak to football players — it connected with anyone who’s ever pushed themselves, coached someone else or supported an athlete chasing a dream.
This campaign ultimately won a few American Advertising Federation Awards, but more importantly, it stood out because it tapped into something deeper — the emotional journey behind growth and achievement.
Interestingly, years before I became a father, I unknowingly applied a lesson that my daughters would later teach me. While working on a university campaign, I chose to focus less on traditional campus visuals — the grand buildings and bustling lecture halls — and instead told the story through the eyes of the students themselves.
We followed three distinct student journeys — a nervous freshman arriving on campus with their family, feeling uncertain and overwhelmed; a senior reflecting on their final year, grappling with questions about the future; and an international student navigating cultural differences while trying to find their place. Each faced their own moments of doubt — the freshman calling home after a difficult first week, the senior battling imposter syndrome before a major project presentation, and the international student struggling to connect with peers in a new environment.
But we also highlighted the quiet triumphs — the freshman gaining confidence after joining a student club, the senior celebrating their first internship offer, and the international student finding community through shared experiences. The campaign ended with these students crossing the graduation stage — each one beaming with pride, their unique journey reflected in that final, powerful moment.
By telling personal, emotionally driven stories like these, we invited prospective students to see themselves reflected in that journey. The campaign tapped into the deeper experience of higher education — not just achievement, but growth, resilience, and self-discovery — and resonated far more deeply than traditional campus imagery ever could.
It wasn’t until years later, after becoming a father, that I truly understood why this campaign worked. My daughters constantly remind me that people connect most deeply to what feels personal — the small moments, the quiet victories, and the unseen struggles. Fatherhood has reinforced that lesson time and again, showing me that the best stories don’t just inform — they make people feel seen.
By telling a more personal, emotionally driven story, we invited prospective students to see themselves reflected in that journey. The campaign tapped into the deeper experience of higher education — not just achievement, but growth, resilience, and self-discovery — and resulted in a campaign that resonated far more deeply than traditional campus imagery ever could.
Embracing Emotion in Storytelling
Kids don’t filter their emotions — they feel everything deeply. As a father, I’ve realized that the most powerful stories are the ones that do the same. My daughters have taught me to embrace vulnerability, to tell stories that connect at a heart level. Whether I’m writing a song, crafting a bedtime story, or working on a creative campaign, I think about how it feels. Because feeling — that unfiltered, raw emotional truth — is what resonates.
For marketers and creatives looking to connect with audiences, this is crucial. Instead of leading with product features or technical specs, lead with emotion. Ask yourself:
- What does my audience feel when they experience this?
- What struggle, desire, or memory does this idea tap into?
- Am I evoking joy, nostalgia, excitement, or comfort?
When I worked on a campaign for a hospice provider, I realized something that completely shifted my perspective — people don’t connect with healthcare the way marketers often think they do.
Instead of showcasing medical facilities or specialized equipment, we focused on something far more meaningful: the gift of time. We highlighted moments that felt deeply personal — a grandfather savoring an afternoon of laughter with his grandchildren, a wife holding her husband’s hand during a quiet sunset, or a nurse staying past their shift just to sit with a patient who didn’t want to be alone.
But the breakthrough came when we dared to show something hospice campaigns often avoid — the fragile beauty of a goodbye. In one scene, we lingered on a father quietly reading to his daughter, knowing it might be one of their last moments together. The story wasn’t about loss — it was about presence. The quiet conversation, the smile exchanged between them, the feeling that in that moment, time had slowed down — that’s what resonated most.
By shifting the focus from medical procedures to meaningful moments, we didn’t just create a campaign; we told a story people could feel — one that reminded viewers that hospice care isn’t about giving up, it’s about embracing life’s most precious moments with purpose, love, and dignity.
The result? It outperformed previous campaigns — not just in engagement, but in heartfelt messages from families who felt seen, comforted, and understood. It was a powerful reminder that people don’t connect with perfection — they connect with truth. And in hospice care, that truth is simple: every moment matters.
Another example comes from my own personal storytelling. While writing Invisible Ink, I realized that instead of telling a story of regret directly, I could create something more universal. By using the metaphor of words appearing under heat — like hidden emotions surfacing — I tapped into something people could feel. That emotional depth turned the song into something memorable.
Becoming a More Empathetic Storyteller
Fatherhood has made me a more empathetic storyteller. By making my world smaller, I have in turn made my messaging so much bigger and impactful. Instead of designing content or campaigns for ideal conditions, I focus on how people actually engage with them — in the real world, surrounded by distractions, noise, and the chaos of everyday life. Whether it’s how someone uses a product in a way that wasn’t originally intended, or how someone interacts with a website — not in a calm, focused environment, but while multitasking on their mobile device — these considerations create content that feels more authentic and relatable. I pride myself on looking at a product, story, or message from all angles — diving deep into the seemingly unseen layers to connect not only with the minds of viewers and readers but also with their hearts. I’ve learned that empathy isn’t just about understanding an audience — it’s about feeling what they feel. That shift has profoundly shaped my creative process.
When crafting narratives, I now ask myself:
- What’s the unspoken truth behind this message?
- Who feels unseen, and how can I speak to them?
- Am I inviting my audience into a story they can recognize themselves in?
For instance, when working on a content strategy for a wellness brand, I noticed that most competitors focused on fitness milestones — showcasing toned bodies, intense workouts, and goal-crushing moments. But real transformation doesn’t always start there. Instead, I encouraged the brand to tell stories that embraced the reality of starting small — the quiet victory of stepping back into the gym after years of self-doubt, the pride in choosing a 10-minute walk over staying on the couch, or the emotional weight lifted after simply drinking more water for a week. These were moments that felt real — the kinds of moments anyone working to improve their health could connect with. By tapping into those deeper, personal struggles — the hesitation, the small wins, the inner dialogue — we created content that felt like encouragement rather than pressure. It gave people permission to celebrate progress in all its forms, and as a result, the content resonated far more deeply.
Empathy unlocks depth — and depth creates connection. That’s what turns content into conversation and ideas into impact.
Legacy Through Creativity
Fatherhood has also made me think differently about my creative legacy. What I create now isn’t just for me or my audience or just to win another award — it’s for them. My photography isn’t just about capturing landscapes anymore — it’s about showing my girls what I saw when they weren’t there. My writing isn’t just about crafting clever lines — it’s about leaving pieces of my heart behind, so that someday, they’ll know what I was thinking, feeling, and dreaming about when they were still too young to understand.
When I write songs, in a way, I am kind of writing for them as well. I want them to hear my voice, my thoughts, and my stories — even years from now — and feel like they still know me because all of my music connects back to experiences throughout my life.
For marketers and creatives, this idea of ‘legacy’ can be powerful. Instead of focusing only on short-term wins, ask yourself:
- What lasting impression do I want my work to leave?
- How can I create content that feels meaningful, not just memorable?
- What stories am I telling that people will still connect with years from now?
Creativity as a Love Language
Being a dad has taught me that creativity isn’t just an outlet — it’s a love language. It’s how I connect with my daughters, how I show them that what’s possible is just the starting line — and with enough effort, resilience, and belief in themselves, even the impossible can come within reach. I remind them they are part of every story I tell — not just as characters, but as my greatest inspiration.
Whether we’re crafting bedtime stories about Nayeli’s martial arts victories, Nova’s space adventures, or Nixie’s magical world of unicorns, those moments are more than just creative play — they’re lessons about perseverance, courage, and imagination. And those moments? They are far more valuable than any award or paycheck, because they represent something far deeper — the belief that creativity has the power to change not just what we create, but how we see ourselves and what we believe we can achieve.
But what I’ve learned as a dad doesn’t stay at home — it deeply shapes how I lead and support my teams as well. Just like I try to meet my daughters where they are — nurturing their creativity and encouraging them through their challenges — I bring that same mindset to my professional work. I’ve found that fostering creativity in the workplace isn’t just about brainstorming ideas; it’s about creating a space where people feel safe to fail, supported to explore new ideas, and valued for their unique perspectives. Whether I’m guiding a designer through a challenging concept, coaching my team through a high-stakes project, or simply reminding someone that their voice matters — those same lessons of patience, empathy, and storytelling apply.
For marketers and creatives, embracing this mindset is a game-changer. Think about your audience not as ‘consumers’ but as people you genuinely care about. Craft content that feels personal — something that makes them feel seen, heard, and valued. Show them you care, and they’ll remember you for it.
Final Thought: Creativity With Purpose
Fatherhood hasn’t just inspired my storytelling — it’s made my stories matter. It’s reminded me that the most powerful narratives aren’t always the ones designed for mass audiences — they’re the ones that speak directly to the people we love most.
So I challenge you — in your next creative project, ask yourself: What’s the unseen layer? What’s the emotional truth? How can I craft a story that makes someone feel understood? When you connect with hearts and minds, you create something unforgettable.
