How doubt and deliberate attention to the world become the raw material for original ideas
The Myth of the "Born Creative"
There's a story the advertising industry loves to tell about creative genius — that it arrives fully formed, that the great ones simply see differently from birth, that inspiration is a gift rather than a practice.
Paul Lavoie would disagree with that story. Not politely, either.
What built TAXI into one of Canada's most celebrated agencies wasn't some innate creative superpower. It was a discipline. A habit. A daily commitment to paying closer attention to the world than the person standing next to you.
And it started with doubt.
Critical thinking is the foundation of every innovation we know. It doesn't judge whether you're using a pencil or AI — it gives you an advantage in generating great ideas. Doubt is the catalyst to critical thinking and the first act of creativity: thinking, and more importantly, thinking differently.
That's why Paul shunned the idea of a creative department at TAXI. He preferred having a creative company — where everyone had permission to think differently in the pursuit of excellence in their respective tasks.
The TAXI mantra said it plainly: Doubt The Conventional. Create The Exceptional.
Doubt had a clear purpose. To create something exceptional.
Key Insight: Doubt is the operative word. When problem-solving, doubt means questioning — even questioning the question you were given. Einstein said that if he had 20 days to solve a problem, he would spend the first 19 figuring out what the true question actually was.
The uncomfortable truth? Most of us walk through our days on autopilot. We stop seeing the world around us because we've categorized it, filed it, and moved on. The coffee shop becomes background noise. The commute becomes a blur. The human interactions that happen in front of us every single day get processed and discarded before they ever have a chance to become something useful.
Great creative thinkers don't do this. They've trained themselves not to.
Why Doubt Is the Right Word
Paul chose the word doubt deliberately — and it's worth understanding why.
Doubt is a vulnerable word. It suggests feelings of uncertainty, hesitation, a lack of conviction about something. And that's exactly the point. It's a perfect state of mind to start solving problems. It's fresh. It erases old assumptions. It rejects your first idea, which is usually a cliché — done before, done to death.
Unless you doubt convention, you will keep looking at problems the same way. And the results will follow.
Doubt is the little voice in your head that says what if? — and pushes you toward solutions that are different. Fresh. Engaging. Exceptional.
Observation, in the creative sense, isn't about seeing more things. It's about seeing things differently — with genuine curiosity rather than passive recognition. When Paul talks about observation as a discipline, he's pointing at something specific: the habit of asking why about things that most people accept without question. Why does that store arrange its products that way? Why do people in this neighborhood behave differently than people three blocks over? Why does this particular phrase make people laugh, or flinch, or lean in?
This is the difference between looking and seeing. Looking is automatic. Seeing requires intention.
Consider how this plays out in real creative work. An average brief comes in about a new line of running shoes. The average creative team goes straight to the category — they look at what other running shoe ads do, they think about athletes and performance and aspiration. They're looking at the product.
The observant creative has been watching people. They've noticed that most people who buy running shoes aren't elite athletes — they're people who run because it's the one hour of the day that belongs entirely to them. They've noticed the ritual of it. The specific silence of early morning streets. The way people look when they come back from a run versus when they leave for one.
That's not research. That's observation. And it's the difference between an ad that's technically correct and one that actually connects.
Pro Tip: Start keeping what some creatives call a "curiosity journal" — not a formal document, just a running note on your phone where you capture things you notice that feel interesting, odd, or unexplained. Don't try to make them useful immediately. Just collect them. The connections come later, and they come faster than you'd expect.
The Normalization Problem
Here's the core challenge: the longer you live in a culture, the harder it is to see it clearly.
This is what Paul means when he talks about noticing what everyone else has normalized. The most powerful creative insights often come from looking at something completely ordinary and asking, genuinely, why is it like this?
Think about the things in your daily life that you've stopped questioning. The way advertising speaks to people. The conventions of a category. The assumptions baked into a brief. These aren't laws of nature — they're habits. And habits, once you see them clearly, are opportunities.
The best creative work in advertising history has almost always come from someone who looked at a category convention and refused to accept it as inevitable. Someone who said: everyone in this industry does X, but why? What if we didn't?
That question — what if we didn't? — is only available to people who noticed the convention in the first place. And noticing conventions requires the discipline to see your own environment with fresh eyes.
This is harder than it sounds. Our brains are efficiency machines. They're designed to normalize, to categorize, to stop paying attention to things that seem familiar. Fighting that tendency is a genuine act of creative will.
Pro Tip: One practical technique: deliberately spend time in environments outside your professional world. Not to "research" anything — just to be present somewhere unfamiliar. A different neighborhood, a different kind of store, a community event outside your usual circles. Unfamiliarity is a cheat code for observation. When you don't know the "rules" of a space, you actually see it.
Curiosity About the World Outside Advertising
Paul Lavoie has always been explicit about this: the best advertising comes from people who are genuinely interested in things that have nothing to do with advertising.
This sounds counterintuitive. Shouldn't great advertising people be obsessed with advertising?
Here's the problem with that logic: advertising is a mirror. It reflects culture back at people. If all you consume is advertising, you're looking at a reflection of a reflection — increasingly distorted, increasingly removed from the actual human experience you're supposed to be connecting with.
The creative directors who consistently produce work that resonates are the ones who are voracious about the world. They read widely — not just industry trades, but history, science, fiction, philosophy. They're interested in music, architecture, food, sport, politics — not as hobbies to mention in a bio, but as genuine sources of curiosity and insight.
This breadth of interest isn't decoration. It's infrastructure. It's what allows you to make unexpected connections, to bring a reference or a truth from one domain into a creative problem in another. It's what makes your thinking original rather than derivative.
Key Insight: The advertising industry has a tendency to become self-referential — creatives who only study ads, strategists who only read marketing theory. The antidote is deliberate engagement with the world outside the industry. Your next great idea is more likely to come from a conversation at a hardware store than from another awards annual.
Doubt is a tool. Here are five ways to put it to work — prompt AI or your creative partner with these doubt prompts and see where they take you:
1. Sacred cows make the best hamburgers. What is deemed sacred in the category? Identify it and mess with it. Suspend those notions entirely and see what's underneath.
2. Question the assumptions you have about the problem. What if the opposite were true? Flip the premise and follow it honestly.
3. Create a shit show. Reverse-think the problem. What steps would you take to guarantee failure? Work through it seriously — you may find a nugget along the way.
4. Relate the problem to something unrelated. Draw parallels between the brief and a completely different situation. Unexpected connections spark unexpected ideas.
5. Doubt conventional rules of success. Embrace failure as a data point. Analyzing what went wrong provides more useful insight than celebrating what went predictably right.
Put Doubt to Work: A Quick Exercise
Pick a brand or product you know well — something you've seen advertised a hundred times. Now run it through the doubt prompts above.
- What does this category treat as sacred and untouchable?
- What assumption about the customer is baked into every ad in this space?
- What would a campaign designed to fail look like — and what does that reveal?
- What completely unrelated world, object, or situation could you draw a parallel from?
- What "rule of success" in this category is actually just a habit nobody has questioned?
Write down your answers — even rough ones. Then compare your starting point to where you ended up. That gap is doubt doing its job.
Pro Tip: Run this same exercise with an AI tool. Feed it your doubt prompts one at a time and push back on its first answers. The most interesting output rarely comes from the first response — it comes from the second and third pass, when you've used doubt to reject the obvious.
Training Your Observational Eye
So how do you actually build this discipline? A few practices that work:
Slow down deliberately. Observation requires time. When you're rushing, you're not seeing — you're navigating. Build moments into your day where you're not trying to get anywhere or accomplish anything. Walk without headphones occasionally. Sit in a public space without a screen. Give your attention somewhere to land.
Ask the second question. When something catches your attention, most people stop at the first observation. Train yourself to go one level deeper. You notice that a particular coffee shop is always packed despite being more expensive than the one next door. That's the first observation. The second question: why? What are people actually buying there that they can't get cheaper? That second question is where the insight lives.
Study human behavior, not human demographics. Demographics tell you who people are on paper. Behavior tells you who they actually are. Watch how people make decisions in real environments — what they pick up and put down in a store, how they navigate a confusing space, what makes them stop and what makes them walk past. This is the raw material of real creative insight.
Make the familiar strange. Pick something completely ordinary — a product you use every day, a routine you follow without thinking — and look at it as if you've never seen it before. What's actually happening here? What assumptions are built into this thing? What would someone from a different culture make of it? This is a muscle, and it gets stronger with use.
The Best Creative Directors Are the Best Observers
There's a reason this lesson exists in a course about critical thinking: observation and critical thinking are deeply connected.
Critical thinking requires you to question assumptions. But you can only question assumptions you've noticed. And noticing assumptions — in a brief, in a category, in a cultural moment — is a function of observation. Doubt is what keeps that noticing honest.
Paul Lavoie's career is a case study in what happens when you combine genuine curiosity about the world with the discipline to pay close attention to it. The work that came out of TAXI wasn't clever for cleverness's sake. It was connected — to real human behavior, to cultural truths, to the specific texture of how people actually live.
That connection doesn't come from strategy documents or research decks alone. It comes from someone who was paying attention long before the brief arrived.
The discipline of observation is, ultimately, the discipline of staying genuinely curious about the world you're trying to speak to. It's the commitment to never fully accepting that you've seen enough, understood enough, or noticed enough.
And one final thought. Once you have your new idea and you start sharing it — make No your bitch.
No is a silent alarm. If your idea isn't meeting some resistance, you should start to worry. It's your first hint it's docile and predictable. But when no is sounding off like a five-alarm fire, it's your cue that you're onto something great and worthwhile.
Make no part of the creative process and put it to work.
Because somewhere out there, right now, something is happening that most people will walk past without a second thought.
The question is whether you're the one who stops.
Note: Paul Lavoie wrote a book on Doubt.
