The Uncomfortable Campaign: Why Melanie Deziel Shed Her Corporate Armor and Put Her Name on Everything

About this article:
The Uncomfortable Campaign is an honest, human essay about what it really feels like to market yourself — and the internal work behind visibility, vulnerability, and self-advocacy.

I’d already been speaking at conferences for years when I left my last full-time corporate marketing role in 2015, but the first time I stepped on stage as a newly minted solopreneur, I suddenly felt out of place.

Elsewhere on the agenda, I saw speakers from major companies like HubSpot, Salesforce, LinkedIn, and Visa, most of them with impressive titles like “CMO,” “Founder,” or “Director of Marketing.”

And there I was, with no fancy title and no big company backing me. I was just… me.

It wasn’t the first time I’d dealt with imposter syndrome. Fresh out of graduate school, I’d been hired as the first-ever Editor of Branded Content at The New York Times, a job that I was uniquely qualified for and deeply passionate about, but also incredibly nervous to begin, given the amount of scrutiny my fledgling department would face.

Back then, I used my wardrobe as armor against insecurity. Surely, if my wool coat was long enough and my blazer was starched enough and my heels were high enough, nobody would notice that the ink on my diploma was still wet, right? I just had to dress the part and I’d fit right into the Advertising department on the 19th floor of the iconic Times building.

I figured a similar approach might work for my new personal brand. I just needed to look like I represented something bigger than myself, I figured. With a fancy new logo and an impressive title to match, my brand—and the conference badge that displayed it—could be my armor.

And so, with a little bit of paperwork, the StoryFuel brand was born. Functionally, nothing had changed about my business, but the move transformed me into “The Founder of StoryFuel” overnight. (Cue the triumphant trumpets and heavenly harps).

The StoryFuel brand was polished, with a stark minimalist palette of black, white, and deep red. I got a sleek new website with the URL StoryFuel.co, and packed it with marketing buzzwords and stoic black-and-white headshots. I ordered business cards on the heaviest stock I could find, and I switched to wearing only black and white clothes on stage, always paired with a bright red lipstick. I became the brand.

And for 5 years, it seemed to work. My speaker bio and badge looked more like my peers’ did, and people assumed I ran a mid-sized marketing agency, led a big team, had a huge roster of clients, and was generally very busy doing important StoryFuel things. And I was truly busy, flying around the world delivering marketing keynotes and running corporate workshops on content marketing and creative operations.

But “StoryFuel” was still just me, hiding underneath a logo for protection. And, like all armor, it was starting to feel kind of heavy…

A few months after I had started at NYT, my boss overheard me complaining about my feet hurting, cursing my high heels. Confused, he asked why I didn’t wear more comfortable shoes.

“I have to dress the part,” I said, gesturing to the Sales reps in nearby cubicles, with their custom suits, silk pocket squares, and leather shoes so shiny you could see your face in them.

“Yeah, but they’re here to sell,” he said, “and you’re here to be creative.”

It turns out, I wasn’t dressing for MY part. The heels had served their purpose: they helped me project confidence while I got my bearings in a new role. But now that I was on solid footing, I no longer needed them. I ditched the heels and dress slacks and started wearing my Converse All Stars with jeans. Not only was I saving money on dry cleaning (bonus!), but when I showed up feeling more like myself, I grew more confident, more effective, and more productive. My work at The Times was better because I was showing up as ME.

It would have been nice if I’d remembered that lesson at the start of my solopreneur marketing journey in 2015, too. But it wasn’t until 2023 that I realized it was time to shed the corporate armor of the “StoryFuel” brand.

“StoryFuel” had served an important purpose, projecting confidence as I adjusted to my new role as a full-time marketing speaker and educator. It was safe, stoic, and sterile at a time when I needed to minimize risk by blending in. But it wasn’t relatable. It wasn’t encouraging. It wasn’t creative. It wasn’t… ME.

Today, my website bears my name: MelanieDeziel.com. There you’ll find a bright and colorful website, with a creative layout and unexpected features. The copy is conversational and fun, matching the way my testimonials describe my keynotes. In the photos, I wear my natural smile and minimal makeup, so my audience can recognize me when I show up on stage or in front of a conference room.

It’s vulnerable, of course, to be your own brand. Criticism of your company, your website, and your work can easily be received as criticism of YOU, when the names are the same.

But it’s also incredibly freeing, because I’m always “on brand,” just as I am.

When I launched my last book, I could be as creative as I wanted, so I got an IG-famous baker to make an elaborate pie inspired by my book cover, and then hired a street artist to reveal the full cover in mural form. I don’t have to hide hobbies that aren’t marketing-related anymore, because I’ve embraced the way that “Side Quests” like miniature making and rock painting can help keep our brains creative. I can do the unscalable, like a monthly snail mail club for creatives, because I get to decide what’s aligned with my mission.

This approach is definitely less curated than my prior branding, but marketing myself, instead of my company, is undoubtedly more authentic. And now I have the privilege of enjoying the work AND the person I get to be when I do it.