We recently connected with Justin Barnes and have shared our conversation below.
Justin, thanks for taking the time to share your stories with us today Learning the craft is often a unique journey from every creative – we’d love to hear about your journey and if knowing what you know now, you would have done anything differently to speed up the learning process.
The best part about being a content producer in almost any space or industry is the freedom and comfort knowing that (outside of a few pieces of software) there is no set path or craft to master like most folks do in the real world.
Sure, you can learn to become a really effective and compelling storyteller or audio/video editor – but that is just one step on a never-ending stairway to the creative heaven. We all follow, have been or are inspired by those who come before us, and I freely admit that I have stood on the shoulders of giants, but once I finally accepted that there isn’t a finish line in my profession and so much of my ‘craft’ is subjective – the restrictive chains were released I was truly able create my best work.
If your biggest critic is NOT yourself, then it’s time to pivot. Or get a job in the real world.
Awesome – so before we get into the rest of our questions, can you briefly introduce yourself to our readers.
Like many of my creative colleagues, I took a non-traditional path (does that make it traditional?) to my present roles as an executive producer & host.
Born & raised in small-town Montana certainly had its limitations; but what I came to realize was how many advantages it provided as well. I was never able to put blinders on and head toward a single goal or mission simply because I wasn’t aware of how many existed compared to kids who grew up in a town with more than 1,500 people or reliable internet. I truly believed my future would entail me changing tires for the rest of my life (and I was completely ok with that) or working a trade like most men in my town, but something nudged me to follow the breeze to find something else that I might be good at – something that didn’t involve a welding mask or delivery truck – and find another way to make a living.
Thankfully, I was gifted with ~just enough~ athletic ability to punch my ticket out of Montana and into a junior college baseball scholarship in Seattle, WA, and from there it was up to me to trial-and-error my way through steps that many young adults my age had already worked through and see what the world had to offer. I knew I wasn’t going to become a professional baseball player but that was only one of a million options off the table and that same nudge that I felt to leave home was strong enough to keep me from returning.
As mentioned, my non-traditional path began after a communications course assignment sent me to job-shadow somebody who works in the communications field, write a paper about the experience and self-evaluate what skills it would take to work in the same role. That job shadow ended up being a family friend who happened to work as an Account Executive at a local Seattle radio cluster. That experience granted me the opportunity to meet several people in management which led to discussions about my own future, and ultimately an opportunity to serve as an intern for the promotions department. I still thank Emily Leisinger every time I speak to her.
A few months into my internship, another opportunity presented itself: serve as an assistant-to-the-assistant-producer on the highly-rated Top-40 morning show. A few months after that another opportunity: be part of a live on-air segment by running through a broken fire-hydrant in downtown Seattle to see if I could make the morning news. It worked. And I was hooked.
Fast-forward 17 years later and after several different companies, radio stations, jobs & layoffs later – I find myself continuing to serve a live radio audience everyday, this time on the flagship radio partner of the Seattle Mariners & Seattle Seahawks.
Independently but still related is a documentary film project that I project managed & produced with 7 crazy friends of mine who agreed to ride 125cc scooters across America in 11 days while the cameras captured everything. The ride was 3,700+ miles and a grueling experience, but it was nothing compared to the filmmaking process. If you’ve ever wanted to test how dedicated you are to a creative project, I invite anyone to accept a challenge in a discipline where you have little-to-no hands-on experience and want to know what it feels like to learn how to drink by turning on a fire hose.
Fortunately, the film ‘SLOW RIDE HOME’ was completed, won multiple film festival awards and is one of my biggest personal accomplishments.
Additionally, I work as an in-stadium host for the Seattle Mariners where I have the pleasure of interacting with fans, players and sponsors on the ‘MarinersVision’ jumbo video screen at T-Mobile Park. I was never good enough to play at the professional level… but this is the next best thing for a small-town kid who loved baseball more than anything.
It all sounds very intentional when I look back, but it felt anything but in the moments leading up to this day.
Do you think there is something that non-creatives might struggle to understand about your journey as a creative? Maybe you can shed some light?
Something I still wrestle with as a creative and struggle to convey to my non-creative friends/family is what it means to put in a “day’s work” at the “office.”
For most, there simply is no office. The office is their car, the bus or train, a coffee shop, park bench or waiting room. Everywhere you go, everything you do, and every interaction you have with the public happens in your “office,” therefore providing a feeling that breaks don’t exist. Never time to relax. Never time to clock-out, go home, and detach from your daily tasks because many don’t have a boss or direct reports.
Not having a solid workbench also often means not producing a tangible product; no ‘thing’ to show the non-creatives or a pile of work to stand back and admire. Nothing but a lot of time spent pondering (which feels wasteful), sketching, writing, Google-rabbit-holes and hundreds of creative dead ends. And that’s ok. You really need to know it’s ok, and so do folks who don’t work in a creative space. I once heard that working in creative roles is a lot like a weather-person who is just waiting for a lightning storm to report, except creatives want to capture the lightning and use it for later.
It will take a lot of work, self-reflection and repetition to understand that it’s really ok to have a bad day at the “office,” wherever it may be.
Any resources you can share with us that might be helpful to other creatives?
I wish I surrounded myself with more people who understood the workbench-theory as I described in an earlier answer, because I often felt that I didn’t work or try hard enough compared to my peers outside of the creative space. Alternatively, I could argue those people kept me in check and constantly monitoring my own progress, but that’s not true. I belittled, downplayed and imposter-syndromed myself into a really negative creative space that I wish didn’t happen. Could it have still happened if I had different opinions on work? Sure. But maybe it wouldn’t. And that is something I would love to pass on to any future creatives or peers of those who could benefit from the perspective.
Contact Info:
- Website: SLOWRIDEHOME.com
- Instagram: instagram.com/onairjustin
- Facebook: Facebook.com/onairjustin
- Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/onairjustin?utm_source=share&utm_campaign=share_via&utm_content=profile&utm_medium=ios_app
- Twitter: Twitter.com/onairjustin
- Youtube: https://youtube.com/@eatmorepickles?si=WbIkM94Pj2ECTLb1