These were my credentials during PBS’s 1972 convention coverage in Miami Beach.

Good morning,

One of the most common concerns I hear from experienced professionals is:

“I don’t have anything to put in my portfolio.”

They may have spent 20, 30, or 40 years solving difficult problems, leading teams, managing clients, improving systems, meeting impossible deadlines, and cleaning up situations other people could not fix.

Yet when it is time to show a prospective client what they can do, they draw a blank.

The problem is not a lack of experience.

The problem is that much of their best experience is still locked away inside their memories.

One Small Story Can Say a Lot

When people begin thinking about their careers, they often try to tell the entire story.

They want to explain every position they held, every responsibility they had, and everything they accomplished.

That can quickly become overwhelming—for both the writer and the reader.

A better approach is to choose one small, specific moment that reveals something important about how you work.

It might be:

  • A difficult problem you solved

  • A process you improved

  • A costly mistake that taught you something lasting

  • A time people repeatedly came to you for help

  • A result you are still proud of years later

The story does not have to be dramatic.

It simply needs to prove something that matters to a potential client.

The Real Assignment Wasn’t Taking the Picture

During this week’s training, I shared a story from one of my earliest freelance photography assignments.

In 1972, PBS was preparing to cover the Democratic and Republican National Conventions for the first time.

The established television networks were not taking them very seriously. PBS was better known then for classical music, ballet, and educational programming than national political coverage.

PBS had recently brought Bill Moyers onto the team and needed a publicity photograph of him.

I was 21 years old and had been doing volunteer photography for a local PBS station in Florida. Someone at the station told the network, essentially:

“We have a young fellow named Winton Churchill. He has a good camera.”

That was apparently qualification enough.

At 21, I was already taking on the kind of assignments that taught me how to see the real job behind the job.

I was sent to photograph Bill Moyers.

But PBS did not simply need a technically correct headshot. They needed an image that would give him authority and gravitas—and help the public take PBS’s political coverage seriously.

That was the real assignment.

I took the safe photographs first. Then Bill and I experimented with different positions, expressions, camera angles, and lighting.

Instead of taking a dozen photographs, I took more than 100.

There were no digital cameras. There was no instant preview button. And there would be no opportunity to reschedule the session.

Afterward, I went home, processed the film in my darkroom, made the prints, and returned by six o’clock the next morning so PBS could distribute the selected photograph to newspapers.

The photograph they chose was dramatically different from the ordinary, smiling newscaster photograph they might otherwise have used.

PBS’s standard press photo, left, compared with the portrait I created for the 1972 convention coverage, right. The goal was to project greater authority and gravitas.

The experience taught me something that has remained important throughout my career:

The assignment a client gives you is not always the real assignment.

Sometimes the real assignment is hidden behind what they initially ask you to do.

A client may say they need a presentation, article, spreadsheet, training program, or website.

But what they may really need is to:

  • Earn the confidence of an important audience

  • Explain a complex idea more clearly

  • Reduce the risk of a costly decision

  • Repair a relationship

  • Establish credibility

  • Help people take action

Experienced professionals are often particularly good at recognizing that deeper objective.

That ability is valuable.

And a story can demonstrate it far more convincingly than simply writing, “I am an experienced problem solver.”

Mine Your Career Five Years at a Time

Trying to remember an entire career at once can create what I call a giant brain cramp.

Instead, divide your career into five-year periods.

Begin with the most recent five years and ask:

What was the most interesting problem I faced?

What did people regularly come to me to solve?

What result am I still proud of?

What did I learn that would be useful to someone today?

Then move back another five years and ask the questions again.

Giving your brain a defined period to search makes memories much easier to retrieve.

You may be surprised by how many useful stories begin to surface.

You Don’t Have to Start by Writing

Many people resist this exercise because they do not consider themselves writers.

That no longer needs to be a barrier.

Open ChatGPT on your computer or phone, turn on the microphone, and tell the story as though you were describing it to a colleague over coffee.

Explain:

  • What was happening

  • What problem you faced

  • Why it mattered

  • What you did

  • What happened as a result

  • What you learned

Do not worry about being organized. Do not try to make it sound polished.

Once you have told the story, ask ChatGPT:

Review this story and identify the lessons that would be most valuable to a prospective client. Suggest three different article angles that demonstrate how I think, solve problems, or work with people.

Choose the angle that best connects your experience with a problem your ideal client faces today.

Then ask it to help you turn the story into a 600- to 800-word article in your natural voice.

Turn Experience Into Proof

Your profile tells a prospective client what you have done.

A good article allows that person to experience how you think.

It can show that you understand hidden objectives, anticipate problems, communicate clearly, manage risk, persevere when things become difficult, and take responsibility for the final result.

That makes you more than a collection of job titles on a screen.

It makes you a real, three-dimensional person whom a client can imagine trusting with an important assignment.

You probably do not need to invent more expertise.

You may simply need to uncover the stories that prove the expertise you already have.

Best,

Winton & Heidi

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