I once was PA on the set for a now defunct cable company’s broadcast commercial. An extra didn’t show, so I was forced to suit up and star as their crocodilian mascot. While performing terrible, uncoordinated feats of “busting a move” I vaguely remember peering through my mesh breathing holes and catching a glimpse of a group of chic, unamused ad-people huddled around video village — scratching their chins, nibbling on snacks, calling the shots. From within my heavy costume I thought, “I could do that,” as I continued to heave my weakened frame beneath the hot summer sun.


A few months later I Googled “portfolio school near me,” and found the VCU Brandcenter (.09 miles away).

I shot off an application, got in, and the rest is on the RESUME.


Since then I’ve caught glimpses of countless other jobs (not through my mesh breathing holes) that I thought I could do. But I’ve stuck with copy. And it’s been a ride.