How Creatives Market Themselves Without Feeling Fake
A conversation with Ashlene Larson, Director of Integrated Communications at Planet, on why creatives struggle to promote themselves — and the practical path through it.
Featuring Ashlene Larson, Planet Agency · Hosted by Darren Durlach, Early Light Media
Start With Who You Are, Not What You Do
Before you think about platforms, post frequency, or what kind of camera to talk into, Ashlene Larson wants you to answer a harder question: who are you, and what do you want to be known for?
It sounds abstract, but Larson — who leads PR, organic social, and influencer marketing at Planet, one of the Mid-Atlantic's largest independent agencies — is adamant that this foundational work is the same whether you're a Fortune 500 brand or a solo filmmaker trying to get your first corporate client.
“It’s not just what kind of work you do. It is what do you want to be known for? What are you really good at? What’s your style? Defining who you are is where you always start, because you want that to come through on all your channels.”
For filmmakers, this means getting specific. Not "I do video production" but "I make cinematic documentary work that makes corporate subjects feel human." The clearer the identity, the more consistently it can be expressed — and the more the algorithm can actually do its job of finding you the right audience.
The flip side: If you're struggling to define yourself, stop looking inward. Ask your clients why they hired you. Ask the last person who referred you what they said. Larson's rule: "It's not what you say, it's what people say about you." The brand you're trying to build might already exist in how others describe your work.
The Paralysis Problem — And How to Break It
Larson identifies three distinct reasons creatives freeze when it comes to self-promotion. Understanding which one is stopping you changes what you do about it.
1. Aesthetic perfectionism. Professionals who spend their careers making things look beautiful are reluctant to put out anything that doesn't meet their own standard. The trap: the content that performs best right now is raw, direct-to-camera, unfiltered. Highly produced content often underperforms casual authenticity in the feed.
“Just because you put out content that isn’t perfectly lit doesn’t mean you’re not also a professional photographer who can do that work. There’s a meta problem of getting out of your own head enough to say: if I post something unpolished, does that mean I’m not good at what I do?”
2. Analysis paralysis — the endless cycle of "what should I say, who am I talking to, which channel, how often" that results in posting nothing at all.
3. Camera discomfort, which Larson freely includes herself in. The only cure is repetition.
Pick One Platform. Pick the One You'll Actually Use.
Larson's advice on where to start is borrowed from fitness: the best exercise is whatever one you'll actually do. The same logic applies to platforms.
LinkedIn — If writing comes naturally, it's underutilized by most creatives. It's keyword-rich, indexes well on Google, and its reputation as a stiff corporate platform is outdated. Larson calls it "a sleeping giant" for people in the visual and creative industries.
Instagram — If you're visual and comfortable with stills, the grid is still worth building. Stories can be posted freely without worrying about volume.
TikTok — For direct-to-camera energy and experimentation, it rewards consistency over polish.
The one rule: Start with one. Post. Learn what lands. Build from there. Don't touch a second platform until the first one has a rhythm. The goal isn't omnipresence — it's one channel done well enough that you actually keep doing it.
“People will put a lot of thought into what should I be doing, what should I be saying, who am I talking to — but actually you just need to start doing it.”
Content Pillars and the Weekly Series That Saves You
One of the most practical takeaways from the conversation is Larson's framework for making content feel manageable rather than like a second job. She calls them content pillars — three to five recurring themes your content lives inside — and pairs them with repeatable series formats.
For a filmmaker, a pillar might be "behind the scenes," "craft decisions," or "lessons from running a production company." Within those pillars, a series might be: "Here's one problem I solved on set this week," or "One thing I believed about filmmaking that turned out to be wrong."
The practical cadence she recommends for a busy working filmmaker: one post per week, built from a defined series format you can prep in advance. Not daily. Not every platform. One post, one week, one consistent format. Done repeatedly, it compounds.
“Recurring content series are great for a few reasons. One, it helps you plan your content really easily — you could brainstorm ten different ideas in one sitting and just go back to your well. Two, it teaches the algorithm what you are and who you are. There’s repeatability and consistency, and the algorithm gets to know who you are and what you’re known for.”
You Don't Have to Talk to Your Clients to Reach Them
A common assumption among creatives is that because their clients are marketing directors or agency producers, all their content should speak directly to that audience. Larson pushes back on this — and it's one of the more counterintuitive insights in the conversation.
Your audience on social doesn't have to be your buyer. It can be your peers. And peer validation is one of the most powerful trust signals you can build with the people you're actually trying to hire you.
“If you go and find someone on social and they have a huge following of creatives following them, I’m going to go: this person must really know what they’re talking about. All these creative directors are following them for advice. They’re the expert. There’s pure validation there.”
The other practical reality: a huge percentage of creative work is referred by other creatives. Producers at ad agencies ask DPs they trust who they'd recommend. Marketing directors ask their filmmaker contact who else they've worked with. Building credibility in your peer community is often a more direct path to clients than trying to speak directly to them in your content.
Mistakes and Hard Truths Outperform Wins
When it comes to content that actually earns attention, Larson is clear: the posts that cut through are the ones about failure, pivots, and hard-won lessons. Not polished portfolio pieces. Not curated achievements. The stuff that makes people say "I'm glad I'm not alone."
“The ones that are grabby — the ones that get your attention — are like: mistakes I made, or how I pivoted on set, or why I changed cameras mid-shoot. These things make you go: wait, what? And they get your attention right away.”
This is also, she argues, where vulnerability actually earns its place. Not performed vulnerability for the sake of it — but the specific, honest "here's what I got wrong and what I learned from it" format that gives viewers a shortcut past a mistake you already made for them.
“I always think that’s where vulnerability can really work for you: sharing something like, here’s one thing I believed, and now I know that’s not true. Because you’re showing something that feels like not a win. We’re so pressured to share just the best stories, share your achievements. Content that says listen to this mistake I made — I think everyone likes that because we all make mistakes all the time, and we want to know we’re not alone.”
Your Brand, Not Your Personality — But Close
The question of how "authentic" to be — whether to curse, whether to share personal struggles, whether to chase the radical-transparency creator style — gets a nuanced answer from Larson. It comes back to brand.
You don't have to put every part of yourself online. Most of us maintain different versions of ourselves in different contexts. The question isn't "how authentic can I be" but "what do I want people to say about me?" Your public voice is a considered version of yourself — not a performance, and not a raw feed of your private life.
“We all have our selves that we keep for our close friends and family. And I think that’s okay. Just because you’re cursing at home all the time doesn’t mean you should be doing that on a podcast. It comes back to: what’s your brand? What do you want people to say about you?”
On the topic of performed vulnerability specifically, Larson is pointed: it gets performative after a while. Vulnerability used as a sales tactic doesn't land — the real version does.
How You Know It's Working
The question most people avoid asking — because they're not sure they want the answer — is how you actually measure whether any of this is doing anything. Larson's answer: engagement is your signal, not follower count, and not sales.
On Instagram, shares and saves matter more than likes.
On TikTok, views are the primary metric — getting served to someone and holding their attention is the whole game.
On YouTube, comments tell you whether content resonated enough to generate a response.
Finding Your Voice Is the Same as Finding Your Style
The conversation ends with one of its best observations. Larson — who by her own admission is not a filmmaker — draws a parallel that lands precisely because she's looking at it from the outside.
That's the through-line of the whole conversation, and it may be the only thing you actually need to take with you: the way you found your craft was by doing it imperfectly until it became yours. Your public voice works the same way.
Ashlene Larson is Director of Integrated Communications at Planet Agency, Baltimore. This conversation was recorded for the Early Light Media YouTube channel.
