A Lesson from Star Trek: Starfleet Academy

I’m a Trekkie. I fell in love with the franchise during the Next Generation era and regularly went to the theater to see the feature films in the 1990s.

However, during J.J. Abrams’ reboot films, I gradually lost interest. When Discovery was announced, I decided to give it a try—but I stopped watching after two episodes. I never even checked out the other “new” Star Trek iterations. Maybe I will someday.

Even though I haven’t seen the latest attempt to revive the franchise—the Starfleet Academy series—I can already understand why so many people seem upset about it.

From the clips I’ve watched and the reviews I’ve read, it appears that the established brand has once again been used as a mask. Behind that mask is something that doesn’t feel like the Star Trek many fans once knew. Instead, it seems to contain stories the creators wanted to tell anyway—stories that might not attract much attention without the Star Trek label attached.

The problem with this approach is that it may buy you a season or two, but eventually fans recognize that, despite the branding, they aren’t really getting Star Trek. At that point, interest fades, and the show gets cancelled and the movies become busts.

We’ve seen this happen before—not only with Star Trek, but also with other major franchises. The pattern feels familiar enough that it’s easy to predict where Starfleet Academy might be heading.

That said, I hope I’m wrong. I still love Star Trek and want future series to capture what made it so special in the 1990s. But again, I haven’t watched a single episode of Starfleet Academy, but the online discussions surrounding it seem to echo the same concerns seen in other modern franchise shows.

The broader lesson for storytellers is: Write your own stories. Create your own worlds. Develop your own characters. If a story can’t generate interest on its own, attaching it to an established franchise won’t magically make it compelling. It will just expose weak writing and destroy the fans’ love for the franchise itself.

Brands like Star Wars and Star Trek have endured for decades. Whether they can fully recover from this era of horrible storytelling remains to be seen.

See Everything as a Work in Progress

I learn something new about writing almost every day. Two days ago, I edited a short story I had written nearly ten years ago. Compared to what I write today, my style back then was a mess. I had to polish almost every single sentence just to create a decent flow.

On my YouTube channel, I recently decided to start an Adobe Illustrator playlist titled “Learn Illustrator in 365 Days.” In it, I cover the fundamentals beginners need to know. More than seven years ago, I created a few similar videos. At the time, my English was weak, my pronunciation poor, the audio quality subpar, and my delivery below average. Compared to the videos I can produce now, it almost feels as if someone else made them.

Whenever I discover a new author I like, I usually read through their entire bibliography. Even the big names follow the same pattern. Robert Heinlein is still one of my favorites, but some of his early works feel slow and uneven. Stephen King is similar. Yes, he had an immediate hit with Carrie, but many of his early stories aren’t my cup of tea. Even Lee Child’s early Reacher novels had their ups and downs.

Very few writers hit the mark right away and maintain a consistently high level.

Many start with strong ideas but only decent execution. Great authors learn from that. They develop their style, refine their craft, and generate even better ideas as their skills improve over time.

It seems that the main difference between those who succeed and those who fail is persistence — not giving up and learning from mistakes.

That’s why it makes sense to adopt a “work in progress” mindset for every project we take on.

Right now, I’m experimenting with AI comics again. My first attempt using ChatGPT is almost finished — I should be able to publish it by the end of February. It’s not great. I’d say I achieved maybe 15% of what I originally envisioned. But after this first attempt, I’ll start a second project with everything I learned from my mistakes. And that version will be significantly better.

It’s all a work in progress. And as long as progress leads to improvement, we’re on the right track.

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.