How I Pitched a Project I Couldn't Fully Plan in Advance

Before my best friend Michael Whalen and I ever paddled a single mile of the actual seventy-two-mile route, I pitched 72 Miles of Blue to Nike knowing I couldn't promise exactly what the trip would produce. No guaranteed daily mileage, no scripted moments, no way to know in advance how conditions would shape the five days ahead. Here's how I actually approached pitching a project with that much built-in uncertainty, and why I think it worked.

Why Most Brand Pitches Promise Certainty

The typical brand pitch leans heavily on specifics, exact deliverables, a fixed shot list, a guaranteed number of assets by a guaranteed date. That kind of certainty is comfortable for a brand to say yes to, since it reduces their perceived risk. But it also tends to produce content that feels engineered rather than discovered, because everything worth capturing was already decided before the actual experience happened.

What I Actually Promised Instead

I pitched the physical challenge itself, seventy-two miles, five days, an attempt at something genuinely difficult with real uncertainty about whether we'd complete it on the timeline we'd planned. What I could guarantee was the effort, the documentation discipline, and my track record of consistently producing strong material from difficult expeditions. What I couldn't guarantee was the specific story that would emerge, because I didn't know it yet myself.

How I Built Trust Without Certainty

Trust in this kind of pitch comes from demonstrated track record rather than promised specifics. I brought case studies from previous projects, including the Rivian road trip campaign that generated over a million trackable views, as evidence that uncertain, real conditions tend to produce strong material in my hands, even without a scripted outcome. That history did more work in the pitch than any detailed shot list could have.

What Actually Happened Versus What I Pitched

The trip itself diverged from any specific plan almost immediately. Packing day chaos I hadn't anticipated. A headwind at Emerald Bay that stalled our first day. A plan-changing conversation about whether Michael would need to leave the trip early, followed by that plan reversing a day later. None of that was in my original pitch, because none of it could have been. What I'd actually promised, real difficulty and real material, held up regardless of the specific shape that difficulty took.

Why This Kind of Pitch Requires a Specific Kind of Brand Partner

Not every brand is suited to this kind of arrangement. Some organizations need the certainty of a fully scripted deliverable list before they can move forward, and that's a legitimate constraint, not a failure on their part. The brands who work well with this kind of pitch tend to be the ones who understand that the value isn't in predicting the story in advance, it's in trusting the process that reliably produces strong stories from real, unscripted difficulty.

What I'd Tell Someone Else Trying to Pitch an Uncertain Project

Lead with your track record, not your promises about this specific project. Be honest about what you can't guarantee, since brands can tell the difference between genuine confidence and overselling, and the honesty itself builds more trust than false certainty would. And be prepared to explain why uncertainty is actually a feature rather than a risk, since real difficulty tends to produce more authentic, more resonant content than anything fully scripted in advance ever could.

What I Would Have Done Differently If Nike Had Said No

It's worth acknowledging that this pitch approach carries real risk. Not every brand is going to say yes to an arrangement built on trust rather than guaranteed specifics, and I went into the Nike conversation prepared for the possibility of a no. Had that happened, my plan was to complete the expedition anyway, self-funded, and use the resulting material to build a stronger case study for the next pitch rather than treating a single rejection as evidence the approach itself was flawed. That backup plan mattered, since it meant I wasn't pitching from a position of desperation, which tends to come through in a pitch conversation whether you intend it to or not.

How This Pitch Style Has Shaped Later Conversations

Since 72 Miles of Blue, I've used a similar approach, leading with track record and honest uncertainty rather than overpromising specifics, in conversations with other potential partners. The consistency of that approach has become part of how I'm known in the brands I work with, someone who delivers strong material from real difficulty rather than someone who promises a predetermined outcome and then tries to force reality to match it after the fact.

What Documentation I Provided to Support the Pitch

Beyond verbal assurances and case studies, I provided Nike with a clear outline of my documentation process itself, how I approach capturing material in unpredictable field conditions, what kind of redundancy I build in to avoid losing key moments, and how my Follow The Journey framework would eventually structure whatever we captured into a coherent release plan. That process transparency did real work in the pitch, showing that even though I couldn't predict the specific story, I had a proven, repeatable system for capturing and structuring whatever story actually emerged, regardless of the specific shape difficulty happened to take once we were actually out there.

What I'd Tell My Younger Self About Pitching Uncertain Projects

Earlier in my career, before I'd built up enough of a track record to lean on, I would have been tempted to oversell certainty in a pitch like this, promising more specific outcomes than I could actually guarantee simply to make the yes easier to secure. I've since learned that honesty about uncertainty, paired with genuine confidence in your process and track record, builds a stronger foundation for the relationship than overpromising ever could, even if it occasionally costs you a pitch that a more confident-sounding but less honest approach might have won in the short term.

The Bottom Line on Pitching Uncertainty

Lead with what you can actually prove, be honest about what you can't promise, and trust that the right brand partner will value that honesty more than empty certainty ever could.

Before You Close This Tab

What does the pitch process look like for an expedition that depends on conditions no one can control ahead of time, based on your own experience?

How would you build trust with a potential partner without being able to promise specific outcomes in advance?

What track record or evidence would you lean on if you couldn't guarantee the exact shape a project would take?

Would you rather work with a fully scripted deliverable list or trust a process that embraces genuine uncertainty?

Dalton Johnson is a photographer, filmmaker, and brand storyteller based in South Lake Tahoe, California. Over the past decade he has worked with brands including Patagonia, GoPro, Arc'teryx, Four Seasons, Nike, Rivian, and Ford Bronco across all seven continents. He is the creator of the Follow The Journey distribution framework, which has produced over one million organic views per 30-day cycle without paid media. His work includes two published books, an award-winning documentary that aired on PBS, and more than fifty commercial spots directed. He runs Stories by Dalton on Substack, read by more than 34,000 subscribers.