Write Better Books | A Lesson From Judge Dredd

In 1995, a big-budget dystopian comic action movie was released, featuring one of the most iconic characters ever created: Judge Dredd. It starred Sylvester Stallone at the height of his career and boasted an impressive supporting cast including Armand Assante, Jürgen Prochnow, Diane Lane, Joan Chen, and Max von Sydow. The score was awesome. The effects were top-notch for their time. It even featured James Earl Jones as the narrator.

So, what could possibly go wrong?

Apparently, a lot. The movie bombed at the box office, costing the studio at least $60 million. Adjusted for inflation, Judge Dredd may have lost around $130 million—making it not only Stallone’s biggest flop, but also one of the most notorious box office disasters of the 1990s.

Critics and fans didn’t like it either.

When I first saw it as a kid, I actually enjoyed it. It’s a typical ’90s action flick with sci-fi elements. Since I wasn’t familiar with the comic’s lore, I had no expectations and could just enjoy the ride.

Only later did I discover the comics—and that’s when I understood why so many fans disliked Stallone’s version. A general rule in filmmaking is this: when you’re working with great source material, don’t try to “improve” it. Your job is to adapt it faithfully, staying as close to the source as possible.

But there’s another important lesson to be learned from this film. It’s delivered in the very first scene.

So what’s wrong with this opening?

It breaks the most fundamental rule of storytelling: show, don’t tell. And it breaks another major one: it repeats information unnecessarily to make sure the audience “gets it.”

The real opening begins right after James Earl Jones’ narration, where we see Judge Dredd navigating the megacity and sentencing a criminal to prison.

So why include the narration at all if the next scene shows everything we need to understand the world?

The filmmakers didn’t trust the audience to grasp the setting through storytelling alone. So they added narration to explain the world—just in case even the least attentive viewer didn’t miss the point.

That’s not just insulting to the audience—it’s boring. And boring is the ultimate sin in storytelling.

If you feel you need a narration segment to explain your world, chances are you haven’t shown your world well enough. And if your narration simply repeats what is being shown on screen, it sends the message that even you, the storyteller, don’t believe your scene is strong enough to deliver.

If you don’t believe in your own work, why should your reader or viewer?

Why Stories Matter (Video Essay #1 Transcript)

Stories matter.
They matter so much, we’ve built entire multi-billion-dollar industries around them — movies, shows, books, comics, video games… Even religions are basically just built on stories.

But why do they matter so much to us?

It’s a simple question. We read them. We watch them. We grow up with them. But the real power of a story… is what it does to us.

Because when we read a book or watch a film — We become someone else. We become the characters. We feel their fears. We suffer their losses. We celebrate their triumphs. And without even noticing it, we absorb something layered deeper into the stories — it’s the ideas, perspectives, and beliefs.

Even Jesus spoke in parables — because he knew something fundamental:
Stories stick. They stick much more than simple arguments or opinions.

Jesus Christ and his stories survived for two thousand years and counting. Meanwhile, they created entire civilizations. And the ideas within them shaped the thoughts and behavior of countless people.

The stories of today?

They’re no different. They still carry meaning. They still deliver ideas, perspectives, and beliefs. They still shape who we are — and how we think. They even shape our civilization.

Tell a child that power and responsibility are connected… They’ll forget it by dinner. But show them Spider-Man? They’ll never forget: “With great power comes great responsibility.”

That is the power of storytelling.

If it’s done right, a story can teach you something you’ll carry for the rest of your life.

  • Luke Skywalker taught us that hate leads to the dark side.
  • Frodo showed us how power can corrupt the heart, mind, and soul.
  • And Titanic… well, Titanic taught us that even after decades of marriage, Rose would still rather think about the Chad she hooked up with on a cruise ship than her actual husband. – Man, what a hoe that Rose was.

Every story plants a seed. Not all of them grow. But enough do. And those are the stories that shape who we are.

That’s why we need to be careful about the stories we consume. We need to think critically about what those stories are teaching us — Because every writer, every director, and studio executive… is trying to sell us their ideas as the right ones.

Do we want a positive Star Wars that gives us a new hope — or do we want a nihilistic Disney Star Wars that tells us to let the past die and kill it if we have to?

Do we want stories that inspire us? Challenge us? Ground us? Or ones that numb us?

In the end, it’s up to the viewer. The reader. The gamer.

But the most important thing is this: We must never forget that stories are more than just entertainment. Stories are ideas. Perspectives. Beliefs.

Stories matter. They always have. And they always will.

Write Better Books | A Lesson from Wrestling and the NWO

When the NWO debuted in WCW, it was one of the most exciting moments in wrestling history. It changed the sport forever. I remember watching it as a kid—Kevin Nash and Scott Hall appeared live on WCW Nitro, and wrestling was never the same again. The moment reached its peak when Hulk Hogan made his heel turn, and fans littered the ring with anything they could throw.

As the NWO storyline progressed, it became too convoluted – I lost interest. And as I grew older, I never returned to watching wrestling.

Yet, twenty years later, I still remember it vividly. But why?

I think it’s because it was the first time for me reality and entertainment blurred so heavily that you couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. Looking back, it’s obvious that wrestling was scripted and staged. However, I wanted to believe it was real so badly that I ignored the obvious.

I believe those are the best kinds of stories—the ones that pull you in so deeply that you forget it’s “just” entertainment.

When I found out that James Bond author Ian Fleming had actually worked for British intelligence, it gave his stories a similar effect. Sure, much of what Bond does is fiction, but knowing that Fleming might have been a real spy makes you wonder: what parts are more than just fiction?

That’s what you want to achieve when creating stories. You want your work to be fictional, but only to the extent that readers (or viewers) can believe it might be real—even if it’s not.

Art imitates life. But only if your art feels real enough to be life-like.

The Mavericks Receive Their Compensation for Sending Luka Dončić to the Lakers

The saga of the Luka Doncić trade just added another intriguing chapter. Against 1.8 percent odds, the Mavericks landed the first overall pick in this year’s draft lottery—almost guaranteeing that they’ll select Cooper Flagg.

This development further fuels speculation that the league orchestrated Luka’s move to the Lakers, aiming to bring the biggest European star to the NBA’s most valuable franchise and boost declining ratings. In return, the Mavericks received Anthony Davis—and now, likely, Cooper Flagg. If Kyrie Irving returns, Dallas is projected to be a serious contender next season.

Now, all eyes are on Giannis. Will he leave the Bucks to join a big-market team. And what about Kevin Durant? Another ring-chasing move seems inevitable.

In a franchise-based league like the NBA, manipulating certain outcomes makes business sense. Higher ratings and sold-out arenas benefit all team owners. When marquee teams like the Knicks and Lakers are in championship contention, it’s more profitable—even for owners of the Bucks, Hornets, or Pelicans—despite the structural disadvantage it creates for small-market teams.

Several referees have come forward after retirement, admitting they were instructed to favor Michael Jordan and the Bulls with calls they wouldn’t have made for other teams. A legendary Jordan dominating the league was worth more to the NBA than a fair competition.

The infamous 1985 draft that sent Patrick Ewing to the Knicks? Widely considered rigged, even if David Stern denied it – just look at the crease on the envelope that was selected.

The league will never admit that Luka was sent to L.A. at its request—or that Dallas was rewarded with the No. 1 pick as compensation. But frankly, that’s the only explanation that makes sense for a lopsided trade that turned Nico Harrison into the laughingstock of NBA fandom.

I’m curious to see how the league plans to revive the Warriors once Father Time finally catches up to Curry and Draymond. Maybe sending Giannis to Golden State is an idea Adam Silver is already considering…

Blogging in English or Your Native Language

If you’ve read any of my articles before, you’ve probably noticed that English is not my native language. I make mistakes—more than I’d like—but with every article I write, I get a little better. Despite the challenges, blogging in English has too many advantages for me to stick to my native language instead.

Writing in a Non-English Language

I’ve run several websites in the past, most of them in German. Writing in my native language had its benefits: I could express myself more precisely and made fewer mistakes. It also felt easier and took less time.

But I quickly discovered the limitations of blogging in German. Back then, I ran a niche site that built a small but dedicated community. Still, compared to similar English-language sites, the reach was modest. Over time, it felt like I had already reached the maximum possible audience. In short: I peaked early.

Part of that was due to the niche I was targeting, but it was also because writing in German limited my potential audience.

Now, I’m in this for the long run. I plan to create content online for the rest of my life. My basic needs are covered, my bills are paid, I’m debt-free, and I even have a bit of “fuck you” money saved up. That gives me the freedom to think long-term. And long-term, the audience for English-language content is hundreds—if not thousands—of times larger than for German content.

Writing in English as a Non-Native Speaker

Making mistakes doesn’t look great. I understand that hiring a native speaker to polish my writing would seem more professional. But there are also benefits to making mistakes.

Learning – You can’t improve without making mistakes. Of course, mistakes alone don’t guarantee progress, but if you never act out of fear of getting it wrong, you’ll never move forward.

Personality – One of the best things about blogs is the personality behind them. Big corporations may deliver flawless content, but readers know there’s a faceless entity behind it. Blogs are different—they’re personal. A one-person show creates a direct connection between the writer and the reader. Mistakes can actually enhance that authenticity. They reflect honesty and vulnerability.

AI – In the near future, the only way to tell if content is written by a human might be the presence of small mistakes. AI will produce perfect output. We may end up in a kind of reverse Turing Test, where imperfection becomes proof of humanity.

The Trap of Perfection – Striving for perfection can paralyze you. As a hobby fiction writer, I get stuck in endless revision cycles. Even after five rounds of editing, I still want to tweak sentences. But perfection isn’t the best goal when publishing content. Getting your thoughts out of your head and onto the page matters more—even if it means making a few mistakes along the way.

Will English Always Dominate the Internet?

The Western world is going through a period of change. The Arab world and China are gaining influence, while America’s dominance appears to be waning. It’s possible that one day, Arabic or Chinese could rival English as the dominant language online.

But for now, English remains the global standard. Most people in the Western world learn English in school, at least to a basic level. Any significant shift in language dominance—where Arabic or Chinese are taught globally—will likely take decades. And who knows? The West could still experience a renaissance that boosts its global influence even further.

For the foreseeable future, English will remain the language of the internet.

So if you want to grow online—write in English.