At first pass, my career looks like a pile of unrelated stuff: a product marketing strategist, implementer, and entrepreneur who does improv comedy, dabbles in AI coding, throws pots, writes a lot, and loves to teach.
Sure, it’s easy to call me scattered, or to admire my range and just leave it there. Neither’s fair.
There’s an engine underneath my madness, and it has three parts.
First, the product marketer’s discipline. Figure out what a thing actually is, then translate it into something a real human can use, without lying about it. That’s what turns openness into output.
Anyone can say yes to everything. I say yes and then ship, because I’ve got years of practice at the unglamorous middle work of making a thing land with a real audience. Including some mistakes I’ve premade for you, and can avoid in the future (and save you time and money).
Second, the improviser’s stance: take the offer, build on it, stay present, don’t block. That’s why no domain is foreign and no problem is “not my job.” The world hands me some thing or germ of an idea (a comedy book about aggressive driving, a clarity course, an eink flipchart) and my reflex is to accept it and run.
Third, the caregiver-and-teacher stake. A chunk of all this is aimed at protecting and providing for the people I’m responsible for. My range isn’t a parlor trick or restlessness. It’s adaptive.
I’m someone who has had to navigate complex systems for people I love and have every reason to excel at mastering systems on demand, and at teaching others to do it, too. This generalism is, in part, a form of devotion.
Put those three together and the scatter resolves into something focused.
I’m a translation engine pointed at whatever needs translating: a technical product into a market message, a CAD file into an engraved object, a messy benefits system into a path my family can actually walk.
The medium keeps changing. My act stays the same.
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