Vulnerability

🕒 ~ 2 min read

Jumping out of airplanes? Exhilarating.

Public speaking? So much fun.

Buying a one way ticket without expectations of what comes next? Sign me up.

These kinds of things don’t faze me much. But what I’m about to do — writing this and posting it online — makes me very uncomfortable.

Here’s the deal: I love to create. And yes, I mean in the social media “I’m a creator” kind of way, no matter how cringey that might sound. Photography is my first love, but I also enjoy making videos, recording podcasts, and experimenting with whatever medium calls me next.

The creating part comes easily. It’s the sharing part that feels like pulling teeth. For every piece of content I’ve posted, there are 500 I haven’t. More often than not, you’ll find my work saved quietly in drafts, tucked away on a hard drive, or deleted entirely before anyone ever sees it.

I find it terrifying to admit that I believe I have something to offer or that I'm worth paying attention to.
I’m embarrassed that I think I have the talent to be a photographer.
It feels childish that I’ve recorded podcasts no one has heard.
It scares me to put a video on the internet.

There’s just something so vulnerable about putting yourself out there when you care about what you made. I don't even make anything serious! It's just silly little social media videos. Despite the discomfort, I’ll keep doing it. Because I know that it’s only through risking vulnerability that I can ever grow into the person I want to become. That’s the reason I’m writing these articles and sharing my work. I want to be “William Pinckard: Photographer. Author. Speaker.” But if I sit around waiting for that identity to fall into my lap, it never will. I need to take action and actually put my stuff out there.

The message? Evidence is powerful. It’s proof that you are who you say you are. When your reputation is strong enough, you don’t need a polished elevator pitch — your work speaks for itself. At that point, it becomes undeniable who you are.

So I’ll write. I’ll photograph. I’ll record. And one day, that pit in my stomach will fade away.