Liz Ruby Email & Phone Number

Fourteen years ago I, and two of the smartest, craziest, hardworking-est, playful-est, dependable-est, surprizing-est people I know started an advertising agency. At the time, I didn't think too hard about what those things had to do with making a successful business. I simply repected their immense talent and presence . . . and had enough horse sense to know this was an opportunity to create something rare. As for me, well, you'll have to ask Kurt and Carl what they saw in this copywriter to make them want to saddle up with me. Then again, maybe you should leave well enough alone. After all, that barn door was long since opened. Let's focus, instead, on the here and now of RBK:Full-service shopStrategy + creativityB2B, B2E, B2CAcross all media formsThe super short list of clients:Abbott LaboratoriesBaxter HealthcareCardinal HealthCNA InsuranceHarley-DavidsonM&I BankMillerCoorsWisconsin Department of TourismWisconsin Housing and Economic Development Authority

Age old story: Freelancer has client. Client makes offer freelancer can't refuse. That's how I came aboard TGG -- and hooked up with my future business partners.

So what's a restless writer to do when she's been gainfully employeed at ad agencies, pr firms, and even a major corporation? She does the very thing her husband begs her not to do -- freelance!

My first ad job and where I cut my creative teeth.

I confess. I led a secret life prior to becoming a writer. I was an insurance claims adjuster. Yeah, for many years I made good money at it. Made myself good and miserable, too. Suffice to say, it was no fun canvassing a neighborhood for witnesses to a hit-and-run fatality. Or telling someone I would not pay for a new bumper, only a re-chrome (boy, that's dating me!). Or looking at highway patrol photos of blood-splattered dashboards. Or groveling around a junk yard looking for an accordian that used to be a sedan (in a suit and heels, mind you) as the "proprietor" wipes his greasy hands on his greasy shirt, smiles his toothless smile, and walks his eyes up and down me whilst whispering: "I don't gots any junk yard dawgs that'll be any trouble, but I gots a man er two that'll give ya a run for yer money." Okay, so maybe I shouldn't have worn the peek-a-boo pumps that day. Anyway, I left that life behind and was making a living as a writer (first in Orlando, then San Antonio) when the opportunity arose to join the in-house marketing department of Kemper National Insurance Companies. It was the perfect chance to capitalize on my industry insider knowledge. Talk about bringing insight to the table.

Small shop where I got to do it all (all, as in make the coffee) and where I realized for the first time in my life that people would actually PAY me to write. What a rude awakening that was. I'd been giving it away since I was six.