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.

I like Sherlock Holmes, Hercule Poirot, Jack Reacher—and most of all, James Bond. Writing my own stories has made me think more deeply about why I’m drawn to these characters. Every year, millions of crime thriller stories are published, featuring millions of new characters and plotlines. So why, to me, is James Bond the most compelling of them all?

The answer might lie in the details that surround Bond’s life. In Ian Fleming’s first novel, Casino Royale, Bond doesn’t do much besides playing cards. The story isn’t only about that, but the central plot revolves around a high-stakes card game called Baccarat. I had never played it and didn’t know the rules before reading the book—yet I enjoyed every page.

Trying to understand why, I realized it was precisely because I didn’t know the game that I found it so enjoyable to read about. Fleming introduced it with such clarity and detail that I understood it bit by bit. Casino Royale became a doorway into a new world for me.

The same applies to the details of Bond’s eating, drinking, and lifestyle habits. He knows how to properly smoke a cigar, which tailored suit to wear, which shoes to choose, and what fish swim in the waters around Jamaica. Every Bond story feels like a journey to places I’ve never been and experiences I’ve never had.

The details of his work and hobbies set him apart. Nothing about Bond is generic. There are small details that everything he does and is interesting. What he eats, how he drinks, the gimmicks provided by Q, the relationship with M, his license to kill, and the back and forth between him and Moneypenny.

This is the essence of a strong character: he knows his craft inside and out – at work, in his apre time, and in his relationships. Bond is a master of his world, living the kind of life readers dream about. And that mastery is best conveyed through specific, unique details—like superiors with one-letter names, an elite double-O license to kill, or an expert’s knowledge of playing Baccarat.

With Bond, we get the thrilling life of a spy. But the same principle applies to less glamorous professions. A carpenter’s life can be just as engaging—if it’s described as vividly and authentically as Bond’s world. In fact, if done well, a character can be fascinating no matter how unusual their job or hobby might be. Imagine an undertaker as your protagonist, or someone working on an oil rig, a ghostwriter, or even an ostrich breeder. As long as you can describe their world deeply, your character will captivate readers—even if those readers know nothing about undertaking, oil rigs, or ostrich farming.

The same goes for hobbies. Why does Sherlock Holmes play the violin?

Because it gives him depth. It opens a window into his mind and adds dimension to his personality. With a few well-placed details, even something like playing the violin becomes a unique experience for the reader—one most people will never have firsthand.

To Conlcude: If you want to design a great character, design a detailed world around him and his habits. If you can do that, you can even make a familiar story feel fresh and exciting. Ian Fleming’s Bond is the best example for it.

I love James Bond. Watching Goldfinger on TV is one of my earliest cinematic memories. Sean Connery was the coolest guy imaginable—he had incredible gadgets, a beautiful car, and even more beautiful girls. Gert Fröbe was the perfect villain and Oddjob terrified me for weeks.

For me, Goldfinger is the best Bond film.

Over the years, I’ve watched every Bond movie countless times. Some come close to Goldfinger. Some fall short—way short. But even the bad ones (Die Another Day, for example) can’t stop me from eagerly awaiting the next Bond adventure.

It’s strange, really. When you’ve seen them all multiple times, read a dozen books, explored the comics, and learned about Ian Fleming, the cars, and the film locations… you understand how formulaic Bond is. Almost every film follows the same structure:

• Megalomaniac villain
• Bond girl
• Cool car
• Special gadget
• Opening stunt scene
• Car chase
• The classic “Bond meets villain at dinner” moment
• Final explosion, villain dies, Bond escapes

That’s every single movie. And yet—I can’t wait to see the next one follow the exact formula.

Amazon now has creative control over the franchise. I’m not thrilled about that. Amazon (and streaming services in general) aren’t exactly known for quality storytelling. Barbara Broccoli, on the other hand, did a great job preserving the Bond essence. Still, when the next Bond film drops, I’ll be watching.

But why?

Thinking about it, I realized that the real reason I love these movies is simple: it’s the character. Bond is the kind of man every guy wants to be. We want his adventures, his cars, his women… maybe even his license to kill.

Even through some underwhelming eras—Pierce Brosnan was a fantastic Bond, but aside from GoldenEye, he was handed weak scripts—the character endures. Ian Fleming created a timeless figure who can survive bad plots and forgettable villains (remember Diamonds Are Forever?).

The big lesson here?
If you want to write great stories, start by creating a great character. When you build someone as compelling as James Bond, even a formulaic plot can become a crowd favorite. Readers (and viewers) will keep coming back—not for the structure, not for the stunts, or the explosion, but for the character.

I don’t consider myself the best writer in the world – though I should be number two, right behind J.R.R. Tolkien.

Jokes aside, I know a thing or two about writing well. And I’m always learning more about how to write better. Just yesterday, I stopped reading two books by authors I won’t name. I quit because both books bored me to death. They were written in a childish way, had characters I didn’t care about, and the plot went in an uninteresting direction.

Both books were bestsellers, written by big names in the industry. That means not only did millions of readers buy and enjoy them, but they were also edited by seasoned professionals.

Still, I didn’t like them – and I did something I rarely do: I didn’t finish the books.

Over the years, I’ve read thousands of books, more writing articles than I can count, and watched hours upon hours of YouTube videos from writers offering advice. Through all that, I developed a better writing style—and an eye for good writing. This eye made me stop reading the two bestsellers – they were simply not good enough for me anymore.

Looking at my early days of writing as a hobby, I’ve come a long way. Today, I sometimes laugh and sometimes cry at my first attempts at writing. The last pages I wrote yesterday, though, are good. Compared to the two bestsellers I quit on, they are awesome.

But what made me write better? And what made me realize bad writing?

I believe it’s simply reading as much as possible. Developing from writing badly to writing not so badly anymore is a process. Sure, writing every day helps. But consuming good writing is the main engine behind that progress.

If you want to write better too, I highly recommend reading better books – and also reading more. Over time, you’ll discover authors you love, genres you enjoy, and styles that resonate with you. Naturally, you’ll start imitating what you’ve read. You’ll “steal” what feels good to you and omit what is bad without even thinking about it – it just happens instinctively. Before you realize it, you’ll write something that makes you proud and let’s you boldly claim that it’s way better than this other author’s bestseller book that you couldn’t finish.

The best part of it? Doing it like that makes learning not feel like work—it actually feels like a lot of fun.

• Athletes watch other athletes
• Filmmakers watch films
• Painters study classic art
• Musicians listen to music
• And writers learn by reading

I try to read as much as I can. On average, it’s a book and two to three comics/mangas every single week. I’ve also made it a habit to watch a movie or an episode of a show daily, to learn from that form of storytelling.

Of course, you still have to apply what you read by hammering your daily word count into the keyboard. Just reading without writing anything won’t make anyone a good writer. But if you only write and never read, there’s not much you could apply. Consuming stories exposes you to good and bad storytelling. And the more exposure you get, the more you can identify what’s good and what’s not.

So, the first rule of writing better books is simple: Read and watch better stories.