Yes, this is a website about me. Here's why that's your problem now: somewhere out there is an event, a project, or an article that would be measurably better if I were involved. The only inefficient thing left is connecting us.
I run Seapoint Digital, a small marketing agency in Maine. I give talks. I write essays. I play hockey on Monday nights. The site has four sections. Each one is labelled accurately.
Why your AI marketing stack should embarrass you a little.
Measuring what matters when the cookies are gone and the dashboards lie.
How regional businesses can out-personality national budgets.
Practical AI workflows for marketing teams of one to one hundred.
To book: email me with the date, the audience, and one true sentence about why you're putting on the event. Skip the form. Forms are for committees and committees never book speakers; people do.
Email Bill →The McCarthy on the shelf has been there a while; I keep meaning to start. Just finished The Faith of Beasts for the sci-fi fix. Tab count: still 41.
⏱ as of this morningA filter for the rising flood of AI-generated cold emails — catches the obvious "just circling back to ensure alignment" ones; the clever ones are still a problem. Separately, and unrelatedly, trying to figure out whether Claude Cowork can be persuaded to make me a sandwich.
⏱ v0.2 · catches the obvious onesIt flattens essays, photos, jokes, and software updates into a single beige category. We can do better. We did before.
⏱ ongoing · with everyoneA short story. The marketing person, evidently, also writes fiction. We tried to talk him out of it; he was unreachable.
What if every dashboard came with a footnote about what it cannot see?
A modest proposal: bring back 'writing,' 'pictures,' and 'things you made.'
The model is fine. The brief is the problem. It's been the problem the whole time.
Coming. Building the site was hard enough; the essay is on its way.
Loud is cheap. Coherent is expensive. Quiet is, somehow, the most expensive of all.
No. There is a Dr. William Cutrer, MD — co-author of a small library of evangelical marriage and intimacy guides — and there is a Bill Cutrer who runs a marketing agency in Maine. The first one wrote the books. The second one is writing this sentence.
Footnote: I am Bill. Always have been. Google calls me "William" because it indexed his books before I existed on the internet, and now we both have to live with that.
If you arrived here looking for scripture-grounded advice on the seasons of human sexuality: that is a different Bill, and frankly, godspeed. If you arrived looking for marketing advice grounded in two coffees and a healthy distrust of dashboards: this is the right tab.
In fairness, the SEO situation is his fault, not mine. He published first. I am the one in the awkward position of being the second-best-known William Cutrer for a search query that, on a slow day, is genuinely funny.
I had a joke for this slot. I cut it. You can imagine roughly what it was, and that's funnier than my version anyway.