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What my past life as a chef taught me about writing.
Every so often, I romanticise about my old career as a chef. I tell myself I miss the pace of it. The cut and thrust. The smell. The heat. Even the burns worn like little blisters of pride.
In a kitchen everything exists on a knife’s edge between order and chaos. Which is fun in your early 20s, but terrible for your back, nervous system and bank balance.
It’s been over a decade since I swapped the kitchen pass for the studio, but during my latest nostalgia-tinted daydream, I realised lots of those early lessons from my chef days shape my approach to copywriting. So here they are, dished up, for others to digest.
Bone apple teeth.
1. Late nights ruin everything (and mean something is broken)
Late nights are inescapable in hospitality. You work when everyone else is out having fun (because you’re making the ballast to soak up said fun). I was always exhausted, underweight, and rarely my best. Then I bagged a 9-5 agency job.
Only, it wasn’t really. No one else got up to leave at 5pm. Everyone stayed late. Because there was always ‘something to do’. That was my introduction to the hidden curriculum of agency life.
Thankfully, I’ve since worked for agencies that value those boundaries and balances, and realised that something is broken if a team is always working late. Bad planning… overpromising… take your pick. Sure, the odd late-shift for a pitch is fun, but good work happens when people are well-rested, respected and given the space to think.
2. Trust your team (and the rhythm of good collaboration)
There’s an unspoken rhythm in kitchens. ‘Lucy will be on my left shoulder 5 seconds after the timer goes off.’ ‘Sean has forgotten about the thing in the oven again’. Proximity teaches you people’s rituals and rhythms, strengths and soft spots. Like a good sourdough culture, this understanding is built up over time. And when it works, it’s magic.
A great agency should feel the same. Writers, designers, strategists – everyone has a role and a station. The best creative teams understand and respect each other’s strengths, habits and needs. Because trust feeds good work.
3. Watch the customer (and learn what really matters)
One restaurant I worked in had an open kitchen. I hated it at first. Everyone could see how much I snacked and slacked off. But then I realised I could hear what customers thought of the food. The feedback wasn’t filtered through the front of house staff – it was real and immediate.
As writers, how often do we actually hear from the people who read our work? Finding ways to interact with end users – whether through research, testing, or just listening – makes writing sharper. After all, if it’s not resonating with the people it’s meant for, what’s the point?
4. Keep learning (before you’re forced to)
Kitchens don’t change much. In fact, obsessive repetition is kinda the point. ‘Just keep slinging, just keep slinging’ to paraphrase a cartoon fish.
One Saturday night at the burger restaurant with the open kitchen, the grill went down mid-service. I’d got 50-odd checks on the order rail. The owner went out and bought two George Foreman grills for me to use for the rest of the shift. It was a very slow nightmare.
The lesson? Don’t wait until disaster strikes to learn new skills. Creativity isn’t just ideas – it’s adaptability. Learning new tools, techniques, and ways of working ahead of the curve is what will keep you in a job.
5. Listen to feedback (even when it’s unexpected)
In a village pub kitchen, a 15-year-old me told the publican that the peeler I used to skin sack-fulls of potatoes, carrots and parsnips every weekend was dull. I asked for a new one. Haha. Big Jim was known for reaching boiling point quicker than the kettle. That was the first of many kitchen dressing downs I received.
But once he’d calmed himself and looked at what I was showing him, he realised the left-handed kid was right. I used the opposite side of the peeler to everyone else. That moment stuck with me. Good leaders listen, and don’t work on the assumption that they know it all. The best ideas and insights often come from those on the tools, the ones doing the work every day.
For copywriters this means valuing different inputs – from junior writers, clients, and even non-writers. Don’t let your ego tell you you’re the only one who knows what’s right.
Writing is soul food
Both kitchens and creative industries can thrive under pressure, but success is more than our ability to skirt the fringes of burnout. Success is the environment you create, the people you fill it with, and how well you adapt.
Writing, like cooking, is about plating up something tasty – and creating something soulful for both the maker and the consumer.
Sam Lightfinch is a brand strategist and storyteller. He helps companies find, define and share their stories at an organisational level. You can subscribe to his newsletter, Stories With Heart – a fortnightly corralling of the best storytelling insights, for people and organisations aiming to win hearts and minds by telling better, richer stories.
What my past life as a chef taught me about writing.
Every so often, I romanticise about my old career as a chef. I tell myself I miss the pace of it. The cut and thrust. The smell. The heat. Even the burns worn like little blisters of pride.
In a kitchen everything exists on a knife’s edge between order and chaos. Which is fun in your early 20s, but terrible for your back, nervous system and bank balance.
It’s been over a decade since I swapped the kitchen pass for the studio, but during my latest nostalgia-tinted daydream, I realised lots of those early lessons from my chef days shape my approach to copywriting. So here they are, dished up, for others to digest.
Bone apple teeth.
1. Late nights ruin everything (and mean something is broken)
Late nights are inescapable in hospitality. You work when everyone else is out having fun (because you’re making the ballast to soak up said fun). I was always exhausted, underweight, and rarely my best. Then I bagged a 9-5 agency job.
Only, it wasn’t really. No one else got up to leave at 5pm. Everyone stayed late. Because there was always ‘something to do’. That was my introduction to the hidden curriculum of agency life.
Thankfully, I’ve since worked for agencies that value those boundaries and balances, and realised that something is broken if a team is always working late. Bad planning… overpromising… take your pick. Sure, the odd late-shift for a pitch is fun, but good work happens when people are well-rested, respected and given the space to think.
2. Trust your team (and the rhythm of good collaboration)
There’s an unspoken rhythm in kitchens. ‘Lucy will be on my left shoulder 5 seconds after the timer goes off.’ ‘Sean has forgotten about the thing in the oven again’. Proximity teaches you people’s rituals and rhythms, strengths and soft spots. Like a good sourdough culture, this understanding is built up over time. And when it works, it’s magic.
A great agency should feel the same. Writers, designers, strategists – everyone has a role and a station. The best creative teams understand and respect each other’s strengths, habits and needs. Because trust feeds good work.
3. Watch the customer (and learn what really matters)
One restaurant I worked in had an open kitchen. I hated it at first. Everyone could see how much I snacked and slacked off. But then I realised I could hear what customers thought of the food. The feedback wasn’t filtered through the front of house staff – it was real and immediate.
As writers, how often do we actually hear from the people who read our work? Finding ways to interact with end users – whether through research, testing, or just listening – makes writing sharper. After all, if it’s not resonating with the people it’s meant for, what’s the point?
4. Keep learning (before you’re forced to)
Kitchens don’t change much. In fact, obsessive repetition is kinda the point. ‘Just keep slinging, just keep slinging’ to paraphrase a cartoon fish.
One Saturday night at the burger restaurant with the open kitchen, the grill went down mid-service. I’d got 50-odd checks on the order rail. The owner went out and bought two George Foreman grills for me to use for the rest of the shift. It was a very slow nightmare.
The lesson? Don’t wait until disaster strikes to learn new skills. Creativity isn’t just ideas – it’s adaptability. Learning new tools, techniques, and ways of working ahead of the curve is what will keep you in a job.
5. Listen to feedback (even when it’s unexpected)
In a village pub kitchen, a 15-year-old me told the publican that the peeler I used to skin sack-fulls of potatoes, carrots and parsnips every weekend was dull. I asked for a new one. Haha. Big Jim was known for reaching boiling point quicker than the kettle. That was the first of many kitchen dressing downs I received.
But once he’d calmed himself and looked at what I was showing him, he realised the left-handed kid was right. I used the opposite side of the peeler to everyone else. That moment stuck with me. Good leaders listen, and don’t work on the assumption that they know it all. The best ideas and insights often come from those on the tools, the ones doing the work every day.
For copywriters this means valuing different inputs – from junior writers, clients, and even non-writers. Don’t let your ego tell you you’re the only one who knows what’s right.
Writing is soul food
Both kitchens and creative industries can thrive under pressure, but success is more than our ability to skirt the fringes of burnout. Success is the environment you create, the people you fill it with, and how well you adapt.
Writing, like cooking, is about plating up something tasty – and creating something soulful for both the maker and the consumer.
Sam Lightfinch is a brand strategist and storyteller. He helps companies find, define and share their stories at an organisational level. You can subscribe to his newsletter, Stories With Heart – a fortnightly corralling of the best storytelling insights, for people and organisations aiming to win hearts and minds by telling better, richer stories.
Further Reading
