'The simultaneous occurrence of events that appear significantly related but have no discernible causal connection.'
For a freelance copywriter who uses ‘words’ as one of his arsenal’s primary tools, choosing ‘synchronicity‘ as the first one to write about might seem out of place.
The truth is – I didn’t choose this word. It chose me. I know that sounds a little self-important for someone who pays rent by slinging words. But hear me out.
With its unpredictable and surprising nature, synchronicity shows up in my life like clockwork.
I see it. I feel it.
It is also why the word is inked into my skin—just below music—a permanent reminder that creativity doesn’t always follow logic. Sometimes, it just clicks.
I could fill pages with weird little moments where life nudged me in the right direction. But let’s stick to one – the one that kickstarted Creative Monologue.
Back in 2018, I was stuck in the buzz and burnout of agency life in Bucharest. When the chaos quieted down, I’d dive into Vimeo rabbit holes or chase down stories about creativity. One day, I stumbled across My Grandfather’s Memory Book, a short film from The New York Times’ Op-Docs.
The film hit me in the gut. Colin Levy talked about his grandfather with a kind of reverence I instantly understood. His grandfather sketched his world. Mine sculpted it—etching stories into wood blocks like they were meant to outlive time.
Then, an Eureka moment happened. As I watched the animation and listened to Colin speak about his grandfather, a sentence stuck in my head:
“My grandfather was a man who got this crazy idea in his head… and he ran with it.”
It struck a chord in me but remained filed away in my notes app, like many other times before.
I jotted one sentence down in my notes app and moved on.
Or so I thought…
Fast forward to the pandemic years.
Agency life was now a creative chokehold. Another soul-sucking Zoom call wrapped with people who were lost in task setting and not ideating, and I needed to feel something again. I pulled up YouTube, half hoping the algorithm had better taste than my task list. And there it was.
Same video. Same spark.
Another cosmic coincidence, as I used to call them.
Only this time, the old note resurfaced:
“Start writing the right stories.”
So I did.
If you’re wondering what the hell synchronicity has to do with copywriting, here’s my take:
Those weird cosmic moments? The ones that make no logical sense but still make you pause?
They fuel creativity, serving as unexpected sparks in the creative process.
You must be open enough—and maybe a little reckless—to follow them.
That’s what I did. And it paid off.
