A Perspective on Marketing (Book Marketing 2)

Today, I watched a podcast about marketing books. It was one of those podcasts that runs for an hour but delivers about one minute of actual value. Mostly a waste of time — so I’m not going to link to it or even mention its name.

The host — a self-proclaimed expert on book marketing — argued that authors need to shift their perspective. Instead of making decisions based on what they personally like, they should make decisions based on what sells.

In particular, he talked about book covers and said something along the lines of:

Don’t choose a book cover because you like it. Choose it because it makes potential readers buy your book.

Sure, I understand that approach. Once you’ve written a book, you want people to read it — and that means you want it to sell. So yes, making decisions from the perspective of potential buyers makes sense.

I don’t consider myself an expert on this topic at all, so don’t get me wrong. But the question that immediately came to my mind was this: Would I be proud of a book that I designed purely to sell — if I wouldn’t even want to buy it myself?

And my answer is no.

Maybe that’s the poor man’s answer — the answer of an author who has sold fewer than 1,000 copies so far. Maybe it’s the answer of a hobby writer. But it’s my honest answer, and I don’t think it will ever change.

After I hit the publish button on Amazon, I want to feel proud of what I’ve created. I want to look at my book and say:

Awesome idea. Stunning story. Beautiful cover. Great job.

Ideally, you achieve both as an author: you write a story for yourself that others love as well. But if I have to choose between a book that I love (and only a few readers do) and a book that many readers love but I don’t, I’m naive enough to choose the first.

If that means I’ll never “make it” — then so be it.

Splinter Cell: Deathwatch (Movie/Show Review #14)

I enjoy watching adult animated shows from time to time. Splinter Cell: Deathwatch looked intriguing — although I have to admit that I never really played the games.

After watching the entire show on Netflix, I’d describe it as a mixed bag. The animation style really appealed to me. It’s gritty, dark, and grounded. The voice acting is excellent (at least in the German version). There are also some absolutely beautiful scenes. In particular, a few moments set in Japan — with a train passing in the background — have really stuck with me. Those scenes showcased animation at its finest.

However, the story didn’t fully convince me.

Once again, it feels like the creators took an established IP with an existing fanbase to draw people in — only to focus on a different character than the one the title actually promises.

As I said, I haven’t played the games, but I know that Sam Fisher is the main protagonist: a highly skilled, well-equipped one-man operative — essentially a mix of James Bond and Jack Reacher, with Navy SEAL elements thrown in.

The show uses Fisher more as a gateway to introduce a different protagonist — the character whose story the creators actually want to tell.

To me, that feels like a bait-and-switch. This approach has been used repeatedly over the past 15 years, with Star Wars being one of the most prominent examples. The question is: has it ever truly worked? One could even argue that this strategy contributed significantly to the decline of Star Wars.

It certainly didn’t help Splinter Cell, which could have been far better if the story had focused primarily on Fisher instead of introducing a new central character.

Get My Latest Short Story Heaven and Hell for Free (STORY52 No. 14)

Won’t stop, can’t stop. Monday is free book day on my site. Here is number 14 of my short story series STORY52. Grab a copy at $0 until Friday right here:

US | https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0GN9MLJVV
DE | https://www.amazon.de/dp/B0GN9YC2FB

Synopsis:

Jakob believes he has lived a life that grants him entry into heaven. But God seems to have a very different understanding of what kind of life truly earns that admission.

A philosophical short story by Michael Brig. Approximately 1,000 words long.

Please leave me a review on Amazon after reading, thanks.

The YOU In YouTube Is Gone

More than 15 years ago, I started watching YouTube regularly. It quickly changed the kind of entertainment I consumed. YouTube felt different — more authentic, more novel, more real.

I remember stumbling across a guy who called himself Durianrider. He might have been the first YouTuber I ever subscribed to. His videos are funny, direct, and thought-provoking.

Soon after, I discovered other interesting creators talking about fitness, nutrition, making money, crypto, politics, and philosophy. Some of their videos genuinely changed the way I thought about life — and even influenced my behavior. The dynamic was great. YouTube felt like a real connection with someone. Some YouTubers made me change careers, helped me make money, improved my health. One YouTuber even made me pick up a Bible and read it for the first time in my life.

Today, YouTube feels different.

There are still real people, authentic videos, and thought-provoking ideas on the platform. But over time, shaped by corporate decisions and executives like Wojcicki, the algorithm has been adjusted in a way that no longer naturally leads you to creators you might genuinely connect with. Instead, it directs you toward corporate-style content to sell you stuff that you don’t need.

Instead of creators simply showcasing themselves, YouTube now pushes content designed to connect viewers to corporations and products — much like TV did in the ’90s, just on demand.

Whenever I discover a new channel, I like to check the creator’s oldest videos. The truly authentic channels often have early uploads that are completely unrelated to their current videos: Someone talking about crypto today might have posted a video about cooking ramen noodles ten years ago. A fitness channel might include random travel vlogs from Bangkok. Those channels still feel real. They still feel human. They still feel like they’re about the YOU.

But many newer channels seem hyper-focused on a single niche from day one. Not because that’s who the creator is — but because they see YouTube as a branding tool. And brands perform best when positioned in a tightly defined niche.

It’s sad to see what YouTube has become — a platform that once felt like it belonged to all of us. It was an entertainment space built by people, for people. And now, increasingly, it’s just optimized TV for corporations and consumers.

A Lesson from the Movie Heretic

What a great first half this movie had. It was novel, sharp, suspenseful, and all-around compelling. Beautiful storytelling and confident filmmaking. And then… the second half began.

I’ve always liked movies with a limited setting. Constraints often force creativity. Try writing a story in which no one can speak. Imagine a story that takes place entirely inside a car. Or one that features only a single character.

Limitations like these instantly spark curiosity and suggest a strong, focused premise.

Heretic takes a similar approach, limiting its setting to a single house with only three characters. And for about an hour, the filmmakers execute this premise wonderfully. I was genuinely on the edge of my seat, eager to discover where it would all lead. Framing a classic captivity-horror scenario within a theological debate was a refreshing idea. It gave the film a unique identity. Well done.

But after that first hour, everything slowly falls apart. The tension weakens, the focus blurs, and we’re left with a lackluster resolution in the final ten minutes. To bring the story to its conclusion, the film even abandons logic and internal consistency, relying on one deus ex machina after another.

Heretic is a great example of a story built on a strong — perhaps even brilliant — idea that works beautifully for half a film, only to lose its way because the ending can’t live up to the premise.

And that dynamic makes Heretic feel like a let down despite it being one of the best movies of the last couple of years.

Having a great idea is winning half the battle. But if you can’t carry that idea through to a satisfying conclusion, your audience will feel betrayed.

Interestingly, the opposite can also be true. The movie Barbarian, which operates in a similar genre, had the reverse effect on me. During its first half, I was close to losing interest. But then the story took a bold and unexpected turn, delivering a much stronger second half. When the credits rolled, I didn’t feel disappointed — I felt rewarded.

The lesson is simple: Once you’ve found a great idea for a story, don’t fully commit to developing it until you’ve found an ending that is just as strong — or even stronger.

Because in storytelling, how you finish often defines how your audience remembers the whole experience.