Chapter 21: How I First Built My Brand and Developed My Thought Leadership

In Chapter Eighteen, I detailed two key points: 1) after returning to Central Europe in 2006, I honed – and took steps to protect – the Intellectual Property of my International Journalism pedagogy; and 2) why continuing to produce my own Foreign Correspondence enhanced my credibility to teach it.

Only over time did I grow to appreciate this principle more deeply: when developing our Thought Leadership, nothing is more important than evidence-driven credibility – to persuade a skeptical audience that we’re truly an authority on a certain subject. This argument was the thrust of a webinar I delivered many years later, in March 2024.

Here in Chapter Twenty-One, I’ll make a similar argument: why concrete, credible and verifiable evidence is also imperative for our own brand-building. Though, the reality is: while living in Slovakia at that time, I built my brand without using terms like brand or brand-building. (Only later, after we moved to Beijing in 2015, did I fully embrace this notion: “I’m a brand, offering my own products and services.”)

Still, in this chapter I’ll focus on the most significant step I took while living in Bratislava, Slovakia’s capital, to both build my brand and even develop my Thought Leadership: I created my first website, as a platform upon which I could publish all my necessary evidence – and more. During that period, I was now thinking more wisely and strategically: about where exactly I wanted to take my career – and how exactly I would get there.

To achieve this, my first website enabled any client or prospective client to learn more about me, what I’d done before, what I was doing today, what my passions were, etc. To prove all this, I learned to publish concrete, credible and persuasive evidence.

While it helped bolster my credibility as a Foreign Correspondent and Journalism Educator now based in the region, I’ll show below how it enabled me to build up to a new title: Media Commentator. Furthermore, in this chapter I’ll explain my motivation for creating this site; how I viewed it; the critical role it played as my platform; and what sort of content I created, strategically, then published there.

Since I was then new to the world of branding-through-platform, I’ll only imply that you should do the same. However, in Chapter Twenty-Six: Building Your Brand, I’ll state it explicitly: no matter where you are in your career today, I believe you absolutely must “hang a shingle” and establish your professional presence in the virtual world. Whether it’s your own website, or a platform like LinkedIn.

My Need To Be Wiser

Chapter Eleven: Scattering Seeds in Slovakia and Chapter Nineteen: A Foreign Correspondent Who Also Teaches It focused so much on my emergence in International Education, while Chapter Nineteen and Chapter Twenty centered on most of the journalism I produced during this stretch. Perhaps I gave the impression that teaching, training, reporting and storytelling consumed all my time.

Not quite. First of all, in Bratislava I was a father, too. While co-parenting our two young sons was of course the top priority, my career was a close second. Next, while teaching-training bloomed into a passion, producing my own journalism remained a great love-affair – and the core of my identity.

To recap, while re-establishing myself as a freelance Foreign Correspondent, I branched into International Education: teaching at universities in Slovakia and Czechia, guest-lecturing in Austria, and steering the reporting projects I created for the TOL Foreign Correspondent Training Course in Prague.

Broadly speaking, though, I found myself at a crossroads in life, both personally and professionally. As a father, I was duty-bound to think more strategically about how I’d drive my career forward and upward: to actually justifywhere I wanted it to go. Then, plot a wise path to get there.

Regardless of the direction, I recognized the need to methodically grow my career. Again, though I didn’t articulate this as brand-building, to me it was simply professionalizing my operation. Not by renting office space in downtown Bratislava; instead, I’d finally join the online trend and set up shop in the virtual world. Especially since I now lived in off-the-beaten-path Slovakia, among relatively few foreign journalists or foreign educators, my website would do more than introduce me to prospective clients, but would inform past, present and future colleagues about my current whereabouts.

Eventually, my website evolved into much more than a means of professional introduction. This platform would showcase my journalistic sensibility and output; my range of interests and topics; my styles of writing and storytelling; even my photographic capabilities – to shoot photos for my stories.

Moreover, as I developed my own teaching-training methodology, and it evolved into Intellectual Property, I was unsure how to protect it. My website offered a solution: Write about it, then publish. I’d plant my flag – and claim it as mine. (Again, see Chapter Eighteen for more on that.)

Overall, this platform became the most logical venue to document each new venture and chronicle every achievement. Why? As credible evidence of who exactly I was – and was as good as I claimed to be. (Today, I often write about this as our twin fundamental challenges in the online world.)

With that in mind, my site evolved into a virtual “shop-window” that would display all my skills and strategies, teachings and trainings, curricula and clientele. Immodestly speaking, my growing archive of persuasive, published evidence – presenting myself as a foreign freelancer, overseas journalist and international educator – imbued me with sufficient credibility (and courage) to become a Media Commentator, emboldened to express my own opinions, observations and analysis.

The Familial, Financial Context

Time for another caveat. While personalizing this Global Communications Toolkit, memoir-style, I consistently try to deliver value to you, the reader: for example, by sharing how exactly I built and expanded my foreign-freelancing career, I explain as candidly as possible why exactly I did what I did.

That’s why, if you’re inclined to want to live abroad for a stretch of time – but have no idea how to do it – another way to view this book is through the prism of my professional life: as a Case Study of one possible route to living a life of international adventure. Or, alternately: one way to sustain yourself as a full-time freelancer. Regardless, I hope you can pick up a tip or two, to benefit your own career.

That said, I’d be remiss (and misleading) if I didn’t note how vital it was that at this juncture of my life, I, fortunately, had a supportive spouse who facilitated my career growth, both directly and indirectly. So, I must now inject some relevant context – about our family and finances.

It’s no exaggeration to say that I could not have done as much of what I did during our five years based in Bratislava without my wife’s support. By then, we had two young sons – plus, a daughter on the way, born in January 2009. (She’s seven and five years younger than her big brothers, respectively.)

Clearly, my wife was our family’s breadwinner and anchor-income, thanks to her work in international development. That said, I’d also followed her to Slovakia, for her career. While I’d built a strong foundation first in Budapest, then in New York, I’d once again have to “start over.” Her salary, alone, was sufficient to sustain our existence in Bratislava.

My earnings, meanwhile, were modest. Could we have lived exclusively off of my revenue-stream? No. At the same time, had my wife pressured me to do so, I would’ve sought and settled into a full-time job. Which means Prague might never have materialized. (Nor my annual teaching adventures in Hong Kong, which began in 2009 and I’ll soon describe in Chapter Twenty-Two: Meeting the Chinese.)

But my wife understood: When she first met me, in Budapest 1997, I was already a successful freelancer: traveling, reporting, publishing – and paid well enough. (As described in Chapter Six: The Flourishing Freelancer.) I remained successful professionally, if not financially, 10 years later.

Thus, we arrived at an agreement: I’d carry forward my own career in whichever direction I saw fit, as long as it moved forward and upward. My income would contribute to our household – and our sons’ well-being. However, earning money wasn’t my top priority. This is essential to know, if any reader hopes to use this book as a roadmap, to precisely follow in my footsteps.

Without the typical financial pressures on a husband, it afforded me the luxury to do what few others could or would. For example, while I always pushed to be fairly compensated for my time, effort and specialized skillset, I’d occasionally accept a low-paying assignment. Or I’d even … write for free.

This might shock some professionals, who insist that they’d never work for free – lest it devalue them and their skillset. I’ll explain my position in greater depth in Chapter Twenty-Five: Freelancing, which includes my essay for the Christian Science Monitor, on when I write for free.

But to be clear right here: I only agree to work or write for free (whether it was back then, or perhaps even today) under rare circumstances. Primarily, if an opportunity for “prestige or platform” outweighs my need for compensation – and is otherwise impossible to achieve. For example, as described in Chapter Eighteen, when I agreed to write several free pieces for Harvard University’s esteemed Nieman Reports, which was a chance for me to spotlight my new teaching methodology.

Or, if I have an over-riding need to gain an experience I’ve never had before, which at this moment enables me to “create facts on the ground” – toward achieving a long-term objective. In short, I’d expect a “return on investment.” (I also cited this create-facts strategy in my March 2024 webinar.)

Despite this flexible mindset in Slovakia, I remained still dead-serious about my career. I was also aware that I’d forever serve as a model to my children. That obliged me to make wise, defensible decisions about how to invest my time and energy – and the paths I’d carve for myself, moving forward.

At the same time, I couldn’t turn to anyone else for guidance or commiseration. I was on my own in Central Europe, juggling my projects and passions, yet knew of no one else doing exactly what I was doing. At that moment, my epitaph would’ve (proudly) read: Father. Journalist. Teacher.

As a result of all this, I continuously reviewed where I was professionally, to justify my decision-making. Since I couldn’t act willy-nilly, I’d routinely place a “finger on my own pulse” to gauge my level of excitement. I’m generally an optimistic, impassioned guy. So, while my priority is always to do what I genuinely enjoy, I aimed to dovetail that with what made sense, career-wise.

That helps to explain why I strove to strike a balance, between my growing passion for teaching and my pre-existing love for generating my own International Journalism. I was proud to be a Foreign Correspondent, roaming the region – as well as a father, living overseas, freelancing full-time.

Creating a Shop-Window

By 2007, I felt a pressing need to build a platform to showcase my existing “products and services”; document my journey through new professional endeavors; and spotlight the new products and services developed along the way. How to produce such evidence? I began to write for a purpose.

In short, I needed a website. Like any business that strategically uses a shop-window to display its goods to attract customers, a website would become an essential element of my brand-building. Again, I share this insight as a show-don’t-tell example, for how a website might help you, too.

Initially, my personal-professional website was a clearinghouse for all my published journalism during the Slovakia stage of my career, as I showed in the previous two chapters, Chapter Nineteen: A Foreign Correspondent – Who Loves Teaching It, Too and Chapter Twenty: Durban, The Sequel.

Yet, my site also became a platform for my foray into first-person storytelling – starting with the Postcards I pumped out in Hong Kong in late 2009. Those lighter, less-serious dispatches built my brand in another way: by humanizing me. Again, I’ll show those in Chapter Twenty-Two, then fully explain the storytelling structure I created for these dispatches in Chapter Twenty-Three: Postcards.

There’s even a sizable chunk of my storytelling content in Chapter Twenty-Four: Advocating for The Roma, as I wrote about the plight of Europe’s largest minority – not only for myself, but together with the Roma colleagues I trained. Lastly, my website became a place for me to publish my photos, which became another passion. Chapter Twenty-Five: Photo Essays contains a cache of that storytelling.

For now, though, I’ll stick to showing how my site helped position me in two new fields: as an International Educator and Media Commentator. How to prove my ability? Write about it. I’d aim these credibility-enhancing pieces of evidence at a smart-but-skeptical audience – to persuade them.

As I show below, by now I was thinking in a very calculating way. Everything I did would need to serve at least two purposes. I’d write about a certain topic, but not just because it appealed to me; it’d also have to make sense for me to write. Plainly put, my site provided me this precious opportunity.

Again, so much of my writing over the years has been un-compensated, though it served a clear objective, down the road. It’s worth asking yourself: Do you have the desire, and drive, to do the same?

Jordan Ink.

I was now in another new country, with few connections. Yet, looking to break into new fields.

Compared with the old days, early in my career, while still living in Budapest, I no longer had to physically snip my articles with scissors, xerox copies, then snail-mail a packet to editors from the local post office. (As described in Chapter Three: My Big Break.)

On the other hand, from my home-base in Bratislava, it now felt insufficient, even amateurish, to only introduce myself to new colleagues and prospective clients by emailing individual links to my articles, which I’d had published in mainstream publications.

I needed something more serious: a platform of my own – which I’d build with my “own hands.”

In Bratislava I was often so immersed in teaching, training or parenting, I had no choice but to be selective about when to invest in the time-consuming process of pitching and producing serious stories for my media clients. At the same time, on some afternoons, while sitting in one of the capital’s charming Old Town cafés, I felt inspired to write without an assignment. I learned to write for fun, too. (More on how exactly I crafted these pieces in ChapterTwenty-Three: Postcards.)

In that case, I’d publish it myself. On my own platform. Whenever I wanted. No need to please or appease a gatekeeping editor. I’d become my own Publisher and Editor-in-Chief. How? By blogging.

For all these reasons, I created my site: Jordan Ink. The “Ink” bit was a play on words, combining the “Inc.” of an incorporated operation, with the ink of a writer. As I was now living in The Old World of Central Europe, I expanded the title, to summarize the content: New Stories from The Old World.

As for the platform host, I’m no tech-savant. In fact, I’m quite a techno-klutz. But I found Wordpress to be a straightforward, do-it-yourself platform – like Website-Building for Dummies.

Here’s my original masthead, topped by a lithograph of old Bratislava that I found online – back when it was known by the historical Hungarian name of Pozsony, as well as by the German name, Pressburg.

As an aside, many years later, while visiting Budapest, I was delighted to find a near-identical copy of this lithograph, in an antique shop, or antikvárium. (I bought it, of course.)

“Blog” or “Website”?

Let’s quibble for a moment over terminology.

Initially, I referred to Jordan Ink. as a “blog,” not a website. That was the fad then; it seemed everyone was “blogging.” Then I thought through the implications: Blogging sounded like an unserious term, for an amateur. Anyone?could blog, regardless of the topic, seriousness or quality. Allow your fingertips to flutter across the keyboard – or snap a photo of your lunch – then upload and post it.

That’s absolutely fine, in general. I welcome the empowerment of writing for oneself. Moreover, one mission of a journalist is to “give voice to the voiceless.” Thanks to the Internet, with so many platforms available via social media, more and more of us around the world are finding our voice – and space to howl. (Regardless of the real or perceived value, if any, of what we might add to a discussion.)

As I built up Jordan Ink., I even regretted not creating one much earlier, to chronicle my progress forward and upward. But once I did, I went on to preach the gospel to my trainees in Prague and students in Hong Kong: Create your own platform now, to collect and display all your valued content and Intellectual Property. If not for brand-building purposes, then at least to establish your own archive.

In China, for example, I delivered a workshop for the Beijing Women’s Network in which I showed them my own site and explained how such a platform was key to build their brand. Then in Spring 2021, once I’d returned to New York during the COVID pandemic and again taught several courses at Long Island University, I even required my students to brand-build with a LinkedIn platform.

Yet for now, I was still in Slovakia. I couldn’t just chronicle my journey with a simple, factual, CV-like timeline: First I did X, next I did Y, then I did Z. I’d produce fresh content to “bring it all to life.” Looking back, my website served many purposes, though it’s hard to assess which was more important:

1) Bolster my credentials and enhance my credibility among clients, colleagues and students.

2) Generate a steady supply of fresh content and credible evidence, to document my career arc.

3) Strengthen my bona fides and status as an international educator and media commentator.

4) Experiment with new genres, like first-person storytelling and photo-essays.

5) Write for the pleasure of writing – a win-win for how it satisfied several other criteria above.

6) Chronicle our family life abroad – which I did occasionally, as a memoir for my children.

Enhancing Credibility

I’ll zero in on that first benefit. To me, credibility means believability. How can you prove to a Foreign Editor that you’re capable of reporting from a foreign country, if you’ve never actually done it before? How can you prove to a book publisher that you’re capable of writing a book, if you’ve never written one before? And so on. How can you prove to any employer that you’re capable of doing whatever they need, if you’ve never actually done that task before?

Ultimately, we hope they’ll take a chance on us, because that commitment always entails some risk. Or can we minimize their risk, lower their wall of skepticism, and somehow prove we’re capable?

When I first returned to New York in 2000, after six years in Budapest, the Journalism that I’d produced during those years abroad was my initial, and most persuasive, credential to teach the subject, starting in 2003. (See Chapter Nine: Journalist Turns Teacher.) After all, I lacked any specific teaching qualifications. The courses I then taught became stepping-stones for additional teaching and training.

Once in Slovakia, the same held true for the International Journalism that I sought to teach in Central Europe. I still had to prove that I could do it with non-American students – and do it well.

Next, it’s one thing to be hired; it’s another to win over a skeptical audience. The International Journalism I continued to produce became credible evidence that was integral to my reputation: As a fellow not only teaching International Journalism, but bold enough to write about his teaching approach.

Why integral? Imagine the alternative: If I were to teach or write about International Journalism, any skeptical student, trainee or reader could reasonably wonder: What qualifications does this guy have to lecture us about this stuff? A perfectly fair question! Thus, I had an undeniable need to steadily supply fresh evidence of my work as a Foreign Correspondent – with a platform to showcase it.

Indeed, the dynamic was symbiotic. The fact I continued to be published by esteemed, recognizable clients bolstered my credibility in the eyes of students, colleagues and prospective employers. It’s classic show-don’t-tellimpact: Documenting my reportage proved 1) I was exactly who I said I was, doing exactly what I said I was; and 2) that I was as good as I claimed to be.

The old philosophical question continued to hold true for me and my freelancing career: If a tree falls in the forest, yet there’s no one there to hear it, does it make any noise? How exactly do you know?

I’d verify that noise, as the focus of my website publishing in 2007, 2008 and up through mid-2009 was my simply my Journalism – as I showed in both Chapter Nineteen and Chapter Twenty.

Then in late 2009, as first explained in Chapter Eighteen, I began to publish pieces with credible publications that lifted the curtain on how exactly I created and taught International Journalism. I’d take those pieces and republish this persuasive evidence onto Jordan Ink. – to further bolster my credibility.

Indeed, that was one main motivation, later in 2009, when I published my first trio of pieces (see below) for Harvard’s media magazine, Nieman Reports: to prove my newfound role in International Education, teaching International Journalism – and document my own method to do so.

Touting My “Big Break”

However, it was actually a few months earlier, in August 2009, that I published my first 1st-person essay, which was inspired by my TOL trainings in Prague. By then, I routinely opened my lectures – whether to students or trainees – by sharing the story of “My Big Break” and how I initially gained a toehold in the field of Foreign Correspondence. (Which I detailed in Chapter Three: My Big Break.)

That story was always well-received, for multiple reasons. First, it demystified one path into Foreign Correspondence, through freelancing. Second, retelling that story from the outset of my lectures was my way of contextualizing how exactly I learned the skills and strategies that I’d soon share with them: I hadn’t gleaned them from a book, but out in the field, absorbed through trial and error.

Third, truth be told, it was a bit self-aggrandizing: I was proud of how exactly I’d broken into the business. Why not publicize this achievement – with the added benefit of enhancing my reputation?

I figured it was time to pen an essay to try to inspire a wider audience. (Though, surprisingly, I didn’t reference the fact I was now training others, in Prague, in how to “break in.”) For all these reasons, I wrote this piece for Quill, the official magazine of the Society of Professional Journalists:

I then took that published piece, and republished it on Jordan Ink.:

Proving My Presence

With that Quill piece, I’d publicized my origin-story as a Foreign Correspondent. Next was for me to “create facts on the ground” and prove I was now truly teaching International Journalism abroad.

In retrospect, by the time I’d taught my second semester at Slovak and Czech universities – establishing a real “relationship” with the faculties of University of Saints Cyril and Methodius, in Trnava, and Masaryk University, in Brno, respectively – I should’ve asked them to list me as an Adjunct Professor or Visiting Professor on their website. With a photo. In the modern age, that’s tangible evidence. Credible, existential and even visual proof that I am who I say I am, doing what I say I’m doing.

Nevertheless, I didn’t miss out entirely on this opportunity, as I did something even more credibility-enhancing: I wrote about both teaching experiences. Not just for my website, but for a legitimate publication. It may not have been a widely-known outlet, but it was still a coolly-named magazine – and published by my alma mater, the University of Missouri-Columbia: The Global Journalist.

In this case, I didn’t only aim to self-promote, but to share a key lesson-learned and experiential analysis: Why my Central European students were reticent to ask the most important question in all of Journalism: Why? In reading the piece, though, note how I was still conscious of its brand-building, credibility-enhancing potential, so made sure to mention both universities where I’d recently taught:?

Again, I then took that published piece, and republished it on Jordan Ink.:

The Nieman Trio

Now I was thinking methodically. I’d published my origin-story, then a piece to publicize my overseas university-teaching and emergence in International Education. Next, I’d publicize the unique TOL reporting project in Prague, for which I’d developed the curriculum and already led for 2.5 years.

Though I can’t recall all the details, the fact that this package of three stories was published in the Nieman Reports so soon after the Global Journalist piece – less than three weeks later – meant I was probably writing them at roughly the same time. (That’s how suddenly keen I was to build my brand.)

I must also have written them during the late summer, because by Fall 2009, I was teaching that full semester in Hong Kong. As is the case with magazines, which plan their issues long in advance, I was been simply waiting for these outlets to publish my non-timely essays.

Regardless, as I described in Chapter Nineteen: Publishing My Methodology, multiple motives drove me to publish this Nieman trio. Even for free. Not only the prestige of appearing in the Professor’s Corner of a Harvard magazine; I was anxious to “plant a flag” in what I saw as my Intellectual Property.

Heck, I’d created this unique reporting project as a teaching method – so how to lay claim to it? By writing about it. By now I also appreciated that Curriculum Development was its own specialized field. Mine worked. This was my indirect solution to protecting my own IP – from TOL or anyone else.

Anyway, here again are the first three stories I wrote for Nieman:

No Missed Opportunities

As noted above, in Fall 2009 I taught at Hong Kong Baptist University. As evidenced by the frequency of my Hong Kong Postcards – published in the next chapter – I was writing as often as I could, when not teaching students or critiquing their stories. (Far from family, how else to spend my time?)

I was also in brand-building mode, committed to not allowing any new credential-enhancing opportunity to slip through my fingers. Hong Kong, I realized, represented a unique addition to my CV.

To bring it to life, I leveraged my new relationship with Nieman Reports to write about my HKBU teaching experience. Yes, again for free. But the magazine had emblazoned this motto across its masthead: Covering thought leadership in journalism. That motto remains on its website today:

That’s what I aspired to be: Not just a practitioner of Journalism, or a teacher of Journalism, but an emerging Thought Leader in Journalism. Nieman offered me a platform and prestige, even if unpaid.

But again, my self-promotion was subtly woven in. I made the focus of this essay my lessons-learned from teaching mainland-Chinese students – especially their affinity for uncensored media:?

By now, I was smartly in the habit of capturing every single one of my published pieces, then posting them on my website. Including, the date of, and link to, the original. Sometimes, even with my photo. If the publication hadn’t published it, I could. After all, I was Editor-in-Chief of my own platform. That’s why the version of the Nieman piece I wrote included my group photo, when posted on my site.?

Finding My Voice

After nearly four months in Hong Kong, I returned to Bratislava and resumed projects there. By May 2010, I was training journalists from the ethnic-Roma minority, first through a grant from the U.S. Embassy in Slovakia, then through TOL. (See Chapter Twenty-Four: Minority Journalists.)

For years, I’d been drawn to the plight of minorities, across Central Europe, as first described in Chapter Seven: Perceived as Partisan. Now I was actively involved, at the grassroots – and so moved by how the Roma community was treated, I embraced the concept of a “human rights-based” journalism.

I even advocated for it, in an essay written for TOL’s own website. Clearly, I was finding my voice, expressing opinions about issues as sensitive as media coverage of minorities. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find that essay on that now-defunct site. However, a Roma organization republished it:

Media Coverage & Politics

Later in 2010, I was inspired to do some original reporting for Nieman Reports. This came about by keeping in touch with a former TOL trainee of mine from Bulgaria, @Irina Novakova. Skilled and ambitious, she’d left her homeland for her first foreign assignment: As a correspondent now based in Brussels, Irina was covering the vast machinery of the European Union.

I was so pleased for Irina, who was just 28 at the time. Yet as I soon learned from her, she was actually one of a dwindling number of Brussels-based correspondents. Nieman planned to wrap their Fall 2010 issue around a central theme: Reporting from Faraway Places: Who Does It and How?

My piece fit, as I explored how that trend affected coverage of EU decision-making. Sure, it was more free work – but also one more piece of evidence building up my Thought Leadership in Journalism.

One noteworthy item is how this article gained exposure from an unexpected source: A writer from the Harvard International Review cited my reporting in his article, Journalism: A Changing International Force. Being cited by others also, indirectly, enhances your credibility. Remember, I’d wanted to make my presence known in Slovakia. Here’s tangible evidence that I was succeeding. Here’s his article, followed by the specific passage referring to me:

The Arab Spring

I’d now grown comfortable with opining about any media-related issue. Especially when I found a “timely hook” – journalistic parlance for a relevant, appropriate moment to explore an issue. In early 2011, the burning issue of the day was the “Arab Spring” and the revolutions roiling Egypt and Tunisia.

At the time, much was made about how Twitter and Facebook played such critical roles: not only informing ordinary folks, but inspiring street activism. My critique, though, was of the term Citizen Journalist. This time, I returned to Missouri’s Global Journalist to publish this essay in February 2011:

It’s worth noting that by now I was often trying to maximize my exposure, by republishing pieces like this on multiple platforms. In this case, it also landed on The Mantle – a non-profit platform that became a primary outlet for my journalistic Postcards, as I’ll explain in Chapter Twenty-Three.

Expertise Acknowledged

As you see from this stretch of chapters, I was quite active during my five years in Slovakia. If my aim was to establish my presence, then make a little noise as an emerging Thought Leader in Journalism, I was achieving that – in various forms.

In April 2011, I was invited to speak as a panelist, at a Bratislava forum on Journalism Education, sponsored by the Open Society Foundation. I happily shared my observations with Slovak colleagues and the largely Slovak audience. Here’s the entire session, preserved by YouTube:

Two months later, in June 2011, I was invited to speak at a second forum: this time in Budapest, hosted by the Hungarian Europe Society. Speaking as both a Journalist and Educator, I commented on the bumpy transition in post-Communist Central Europe. Particularly how it affected the media, the youth, and other topics. You may recall – or scroll up – that I’d written about this topic in 2009, for Global Journalist magazine. Once again, investing the effort to write and build credibility had paid off.

Here’s the clip from my Budapest appearance, courtesy of YouTube:?

Defending Western Training

By now, I’d been a TOL trainer in Prague for four years, which meant eight sessions of the biannual reporting project – a credible chunk of time, in my mind. I could also see my positive impact when training dozens of international participants. Westerner and non-Westerners, alike.

With that, I felt confident enough to raise my voice about such matters. So, in June 2011, when I read a criticism of Western journalism-training published in Nieman Reports – and it even cited an example of such training in post-Communist Eastern Europe – I decided to speak out. Loudly.

I drew upon my experiences in Central Europe and Hong Kong, to state my credentials for this counter-attack. (For brand-building purposes, as well.) Here’s the critical piece, then my rebuttal:?

A Send-Off from Slovakia

By the Fall of 2011, we were planning to leave Slovakia – after five memorable years there. Our overseas adventure wasn’t over, though: We were headed to Southern Africa, to the tiny kingdom of Lesotho. (As explained in Chapter One: Birth of a Method, it was only after we moved to Lesotho that I’d adapt all my International Journalism skills, strategies and storytelling styles to Global Communications.)

Seeing my time in Bratislava dwindling, that April 2011 panel-discussion on Journalism Education inspired me to pursue and produce one more essay related to International Education in Central Europe.

In this case, I was curious to follow-up with my Slovak and Czech students from a few years earlier – to track what kind of jobs they’d been able to find, once they’d graduated. In its own way, this piece also opened a window onto the state of democracy in newly democratic Central Europe.

It’s worth noting that by now I was savvy to the benefits of a cross-referencing hyperlink: Within this essay, I referred often to my earlier activities – as further evidence to establish my credibility and Thought Leadership – which I’d documented on my website and in other publications. Here’s that farewell piece, which Nieman Reports published several months after I’d left Slovakia:

Again, because I was always looking to extend my reach and enhance my brand, I re-published that piece on The Mantle:

If I Were to Break in Today

Lastly, speaking of The Mantle, it was on that platform that I published a follow-up to my August 2009 piece inThe Quill, about how I’d broken into Foreign Correspondence back in 1995. Except I wrote this follow-up in August 2012, nearly one year after we left Slovakia.

The real “timely hook” for the essay was that at TOL, I was now doing more than sharing the story of how I broke in, back then. I updated it with tips for how I’d break in today – 17 years later. Again, I always seek ways to deliver practical value to my audience, for you to apply on your own.

Here’s that essay, published on The Mantle:

I republished that story on my site, with my photo of colleagues and trainees:

Lastly, I followed that up by being interviewed in November 2012, by a fellow freelancer: the Indian journalist Natasha Khullar Relph . Natasha, who has written eight books and created numerous courses, asked about my lessons learned from freelancing. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find our original interview on her now-defunct website. Yet here’s that interview, from Jordan Ink.:

If you'd like me to coach you on how to build your brand, or develop your Thought Leadership, contact me at [email protected].