The Corey Vilhauer Brand

November 19, 2008


“The unread story is not a story; it is little black marks on wood pulp. The reader, reading it, makes it live: a live thing, a story.”

This past week, I was given an offer on one of our photos – a picture taken almost as a throwaway, rescued from the pile and produced into one of my favorites. A national publication wants to use it. And they’re willing to pay us. Us. Little amateur Corey and Kerrie, skilled in ways we never realized.

A friend of mine asked how this possibly could have happened. How do you take a photo and, a few weeks later, without any promotion or marketing, get it sold?

And the answer is easy: The Internet. An amazing tool. (As long as you use it correctly.)

Three years ago, my entire creative portfolio consisted of six articles for a local men’s magazine and one blog. Yet, I desperately longed for a career in the creative industry. I wanted to be a writer, but didn’t know how to position myself.

So it was complete blind luck that I began to realize my name was starting to gain a little equity, thanks to both a published column and, even more surprisingly, this little blog. I associated my name with Black Marks on Wood Pulp, one of the few consistent South Dakota blogs at the time. I made friends with other bloggers – primarily the political ones – left comments and became sort of well known in the S.D. blogging community.

The person I interviewed with for my first ever writing job was familiar with my blog. She enjoyed it. She hired me.

From here, I realized I had something. I submitted Black Marks on Wood Pulp to 9rules, gaining a larger audience and more connections. These – and most of the local marketing or web design personalities – turned out to be the first twitterers I ever followed – and, in return, my first follwers. I took up flickr to post our photos and, through a mixture of the three, my name was suddenly known for writing, photography and basic Wordpress blog design.

There are a lot of people out there who are much more talented than I am. So it has a lot to do with luck as well. But I’ve managed to make give my name value – both through recognition and results – in a way that I never could have without the ‘net.

And in giving my name that value, I turn up on more people’s searches. Because I have a background already, my creative endeavors are automatically given more credence. All things being equal, you choose the more well known person over the unproven kid, simply because you know what you’ll get.

To answer the question my friend asked, I simply put my stuff out for all to see. I unabashedly brace for failure, discover a lack of it, and forge ahead. I embrace feedback, write and contribute to the teeming humanity located within, and come out with something I can be proud of.

This networking, though for the most part passive, has given me – and countless others – a feeling of success. The type of success that drives us to continue creating, even if only to a small audience.

Because we know that, for every person who leaves a comment, there are hundreds who stop by and silently admire. For every person who complains or writes off, there are just as many who are coming across your work for the first time.

Because it’s always out there, my name continues to gain value. And with it, my creative endeavors gain traction faster than they did when I was starting up.

It takes a long time to build brand equity into a name. But given enough time, and the willpower to continue linking back to your identity, someone will take notice.

And when they do, you can finally begin to reap the rewards.

Tags: Advertising and Marketing, Blogging, Career, Photography, Vilhauer |

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The first day of school

August 18, 2008


Sometimes it’s hard to believe I was there once, scanning my schedule one last time before I ran to my next class, anxiously memorizing the room number. Because let’s face it, there’s nothing dorkier than stopping in the middle of the hallway and checking your destination; nothing has ever so perfectly predestined a cruel de-booking, a cackle, an entire audience turning on a swivel, looking your way. Standing out like a construction cone.

But I was. Twelve years ago I started my senior year of high school. On a day much like today, I’m sure – a cool summer morning, hiding its intentions under a guise of ozone and cloud cover, waiting until noon to spring out and melt everything you had foolishly left on your vehicle’s dashboard; a wet trail of grass, beaten down by hundreds of new shoes, left wasted and muddy from the parking lot to the front door.

You’d sit down, a little melancholy, waiting for the bittersweet first bell. Summer, as you knew it, was over – seemingly over faster than last year, if you remember correctly. Yet, this was a time of adventure. You had no idea who would be in your class, how difficult your teachers would be, whether you’d suddenly realize you enjoyed a subject. It was the perfect clean slate. It was, for some, the best day of school all year.

Driving by today, I got that pit in my stomach again. The same one you’d get in homeroom, waiting for the year to finally start. At the stoplight, I felt strangely nostalgic as I watched the kids file from their cars, meet their friends, don their new backpacks and hike inside, across the same halls I once did, to the same lockers I once occupied.

Lincoln High School, the only alma mater I actually feel some connection to. The only time I had teachers who really inspired me.

And then the light turned green. I looked away, faced forward, and drove off. Toward what twelve years ago would have been considered the future. What, to me, is simply considered “the now.”

Tags: Career, Education, On... |

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Falling off the hobby horse

August 14, 2008


Every few months, a bubble occurs at work. It tends to show up after a few days of downtime, when scratching together a few hours of billable time seems impossible. It comes on suddenly, with a flurry of meetings. My desk begins to pile up. My life turns up another gear. Everything is due tomorrow, and the end is nowhere in sight. It bleeds into my free time; free time that may already be stretched by prior engagements and home projects and an ever-growing pile of mind-numbing DVRed programs.

That’s the nature of the business. I grumble. But I also bask in the glow of vocation, knowing that someone depends on me for his or her words, plans and ideas. That I get paid to do something I enjoy, something I should stay quiet about lest they realize what they’re paying me to do.

But man, it sure wreaks havoc on my hobbies.

As words flow toward one end, the means to keep up with the hobby side of writing dries up; the paths diverted. What was once fun becomes work. A source of pride becomes an millstone, hanging from my neck. Taunting me with its demise.

Because with the important things claiming their share of my life’s time, my hobbies fall back a bit. I am afforded no more time to write on my own. And newer, shinier hobbies show up, too. I sometimes think my computer keyboard is jealous of our new camera. Of each new book. Of the Olympics and, in the past, the NBA Finals.

And from there, things deteriorate. Out of practice, or with my ideas used up elsewhere, it feels like something is stuck, like writer’s block has set in, or that my thoughts have been stuck in my head too long, are no longer timely or spontaneous or fresh. This leads to abandonment, of ditching a great outlet because of the convincing nature of busyness.

In this way, work can get in the way of our hobbies. And sometimes, that’s bound to happen. But without that outlet, what do we have?

So I think a little harder. I glance at the screen a few times, scanning the page for something I’ve forgotten. Then I start typing. For me. For my sanity.

And to remember that our hobbies are crucial. Make time for them. Take a few minutes and do something you truly enjoy, for yourself, for those you care about, anything that gives you the feeling of artistic merit or release, even if that release comes from creating a small city out of model trains or playing an artful game of Madden 2005 or writing or designing your own site or crocheting rabbit-shaped stuffed animals or decorating the house. Even at work. During break. That taking 15 minutes out of your work day to do something fun is more productive than stewing over your work.

Remember that, above all else, hobbies are for us to unwind. That they’ll always be there when you come back. That they don’t understand the meaning of time. Most importantly, remember that our hobbies may not give us the support we need to live comfortably, but they certainly make life a lot more enjoyable.

Tags: Blogging, Books, Career, Friends, Meta, Photography, Television, Vilhauer, Writing |

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Sue

July 12, 2008


Sue.When I was eight, I made a grand announcement.

I was going to be a paleontologist.

It struck my parents as an odd declaration. A paleontologist! How scientific! How smart! With my future vocation decided, everything would be milk and honey! Corey wants to be a paleontologist! Hooray! According to family legend, my mother supported my decision whole heartedly. She welcomed the notion and was ready to enroll me into the best college or university with a Paleontology program.

Then, she ran to a dictionary and looked up the word “Palentology.”

For four or five years, I was convinced that paleontology, and archaeology as a whole, was a grand and noble vocation. I loved dinosaurs. I even read adult non-fiction books on digging bones and dinosaur origins and other things I didn’t fully understand, but still enjoyed.

And then, as is to be expected, I realized how boring paleontology would be. I mean, it’s hot. Dusty. You wade through rocks, dusting them. You search for years to find dinosaur bones. You discover them, and they’re taken away to a museum.

At which point you begin again.

South Dakota, at times, seems like fossil central. We have mammoth pits and full skeleton deposits and about seventeen billion arrowheads. We’re a depository for already used calcium, with bones piling up around the state like dust bunnies.

This weekend, these bones (and a South Dakota Humanities Council board meeting) led me to experience faith.

Sorry. Let me rephrase that. Led me to experience Faith, SD.

Sue, the most complete Tyrannosaurus Rex ever found, was discovered outside of Faith, a small town in the middle of a remote but beautiful part of the state. The area is covered in bluffs and hills, and the only reason it’s not more widely known is because of its distance from any other form of civilization.

Even though Sue was discovered near Faith, the population and proximity to others makes Faith an odd place to hold a grand museum exhibit. Which is why Faith had never hosted the dinosaur that nearly made it famous. At least, until now.

Currently, in the middle of Faith’s modern-looking convention/activity center, which in and of itself is a vast contrast to the rest of Faith’s small-town charm, stands a full Tyrannosaurus skeleton. Illuminated red and backed by a soundtrack of roars, Sue (a replica – the real dinosaur is on display in Chicago) hovers over all who enter. It’s daunting. And when you imagine it with flesh and muscle and skin, it’s horrifying.

It was also fun. Sue is archaeology personified – the discovery of ancient cultures and life lying just below the surface of the Earth we now know. Seeing it firsthand is a little sobering, bringing to mind the immensity of life and the span of known existence. All we know of Sue is what we’ve discovered. We know she was a grizzled veteran, with bone scars and broken ribs documenting a life of hardship. We also know that she was fiercely protective: Sue is thought to have died protecting her young, with her jaw ripped from her skull and baby Tyrannosaurs found close by.

Most of all, though, it brought me back to my childhood. I was transported to a trip I took to the dinosaur museum in Pocatello, Idaho, where I saw firsthand the dinosaurs that were, at the time, filling my mind with wonder. I met a true paleontologist that day, and was absolutely sure that I was going to have a long and fruitful life digging up dinosaurs, living out a childhood fantasy.

Two decades later, I couldn’t help but stare down the hollowed out skeleton, through the gaping mouth, bounding down each rib, sliding up and off of its tail, and think of what people will find of me when I’m gone. What life record will I leave? What bones will people dig up. What culture will I help influence with the artifacts I leave behind?

And of course, I thought of the life that no fossil record could capture. That I was once ready to dig up artifacts on my own. Walking through the lives of giants. Discovering yet another life cut short by natural progress. Piecing together the records of those who came millions of years before me.

Tags: Career, Travel, Vilhauer |

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I want to write books

March 28, 2008


Someday, I want to write books.

Books of short stories, probably. I can’t even wrap my mind around writing a novel. It’s just too big. Too daunting.

I’ve got some ideas, already. Some have been done. Others have not. All hold promise. All just need some push and a lot of time.

I want to write about two friends who discover a horrible secret at a lake house.

I want to write about what it was like to witness my grandfather as he died of cancer.

I want to write stories based on the songs from Ween’s Chocolate and Cheese.

I want to write stories.

Who knows. Maybe one of these will turn into a book. It’s happened before. A short story by the title of “Rabbit, Run” turned into book, which in turn created a multiple time Pulitzer Prize winning series and made John Updike the name we know today.

Someday, I’ll write a book of short stories. I’ll make time to write more than just a hastily created blog post. I’ll struggle to have it published. I’ll frame my rejection letters. I’ll create cover art in MS Paint. I’ll hide it in a drawer. I’ll create seventeen DVD copies of the file and scatter them throughout the world, just in case.

In fact, I’ve already started. Who knows how long it will take. Really, who knows how long anything will take.

Tags: Books, Career, Writing |

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Gallantly streaming

January 4, 2008


Did you see that banner flying in the background during the Iowa Caucuses last night?

We did that. My agency, HenkinSchultz Communication Arts. It’s kind of a big deal.

From the Argus Leader report:

People around the country and the world saw the creative efforts of a Sioux Falls company during coverage of Thursday night’s Iowa caucus.

Marketing, advertising and public relations firm HenkinSchultz Communication Arts designed the Iowa Caucus Committee’s stage and backdrop for press events and to display Thursday’s caucus results.

The backdrop, designed by HenkinSchultz co-owner Kirby Schultz, measures 16 feet tall and 93 feet wide. It features an American flag that seems to wave in the breeze, three video projectors and a 22-foot LED screen.

The backdrop is similar to the one the company produced for the recent 2007 Sioux Falls Area Chamber of Commerce annual meeting. HenkinSchultz also worked with a Des Moines-based firm on the project.

I’ve never been so close to something so big in my life.

(That’s what she said.)

Sorry. It’s Friday.

—————-

EDIT - I finally found some footage of the banner and staging. Kind of. See that waving flag in the background? That’s it.

Tags: Career, Television |

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Corey’s rules of order

October 15, 2007


My first official South Dakota Humanities Council board meeting occurred this past Saturday in Pierre.

It came and went without incident, actually - we talked about by-laws, approved some grants, etc. But I found myself a fish out of water, as maybe many of my fellow new board members did as well. I’m not extremely well versed in board decorum. I wasn’t sure how to dress - casual, nice or formal? I didn’t know if I needed to comment on everything or just what I felt moved to.

And I certainly didn’t know what I was doing in regards to Robert’s Rules of Order.

You know. Robert’s Rules of Order. Or, more accurately, Parliamentary Procedure. Yeas and Nays and Motions and Carries - enough familiar yet foreign words that it seems as though I’m talking about a football cheerleading troupe.

These Rules of Order, oh how they seem unnecessary. Yet, I understand their purpose as a backbone to a successfully organized meeting. Of course, they seem so constricting when conducting business in polite company.

When do kids learn parliamentary procedure? If I hadn’t been a resident adviser at St. Cloud State - where the hall counsel meetings are required to be conducted using parliamentary procedure - I’d have no clue about it. I’d be discussing when I was supposed to be motioning and all of that.

The funny thing is that I’m not alone. It seems as though several board members wanted to forge ahead, bristling against the grain of parliamentary procedure, attempting to change a motion or go back and revote when that time had already passed. It’s not a confusing set of rules, but it’s filled with rules I’ve never laid eyes on. And it’s filled with even more rules that no one follows.

I’m not sure if Robert’s Rules are an offshoot of parliamentary procedure or simply a more complex way to handle disputes in a meeting format. Regardless, I looked up some of the rules and found that, along with being exclamation point happy, they were incredibly anal and sometimes downright dictatorial; nearly ironic in its vehement language, using biting words to stop biting words.

• Obtain the floor (the right to speak) by being the first to stand when the person speaking has finished; state Mr./Madam Chairman. Raising your hand means nothing, and standing while another has the floor is out of order! Must be recognized by the Chair before speaking!
• Debate can not begin until the Chair has stated the motion or resolution and asked “are you ready for the question?” If no one rises, the chair calls for the vote!
• Before the motion is stated by the Chair (the question) members may suggest modification of the motion; the mover can modify as he pleases, or even withdraw the motion without consent of the seconder; if mover modifies, the seconder can withdraw the second.
• The “immediately pending question” is the last question stated by the Chair! Motion/Resolution - Amendment - Motion to Postpone
• The member moving the “immediately pending question” is entitled to preference to the floor!
• No member can speak twice to the same issue until everyone else wishing to speak has spoken to it once!
• All remarks must be directed to the Chair. Remarks must be courteous in language and deportment - avoid all personalities, never allude to others by name or to motives!
• The agenda and all committee reports are merely recommendations! When presented to the assembly and the question is stated, debate begins and changes occur!

Raising your hand? IT MEANS NOTHING, YOU FOOL!

I found myself wondering, is all this parliamentary procedure necessary all the time? And is there any way around it if it’s not? The answers: Yes - it’s necessary. No - there’s no way around it. Meetings need order, and even though the order might be as chaotic as a lack thereof. So even though you’ve probably never learned it, just go with the flow. You’ll pick it up soon enough. Or, you can pretend.

And, as a friend and former co-worker told me, if you venture out with a “second,” your name gets listed in the minutes, which you can then show to everyone you’d like as proof you were there and helping to make decisions. Which is why we’re on boards in the first place, right? To be seen?

What if the conversations in your head were conducted using parliamentary procedure?

Corey: The next item is voting on a color for our website.
Corey Two: I motion that we use maroon for the website color.
Corey Three: Second.
Corey: Any discussion?
Corey Four: Why maroon? Lame!
Corey Two: Because maroon is a universally accepted color of intelligence.
Corey Four: You’re making that up!
Corey Two: So I am. So what?
(Silence)
Corey: Any further discussion?
(Silence)
Corey: All in favor?
Corey Two and Corey Three: Aye.
Corey: Opposed
Corey Four: Nay.
Corey: Motion passes, two to one. Next item…

And that would be my brain. Repeating. Over and over again. Frightening.

Tags: Career |

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