How Real Reporting Becomes Big-Money IP

An Insatiable Appetite for True Crime It was eye-opening to hear Dave Rutherford, the Director of Photography for Steak Guerrillas , a film I’m directing, talk about work he does for news agencies. When I told him about our plans to develop a true-story film studio that would include true crime stories in our slate of projects, he enthusiastically endorsed the idea sharing that many times he has covered the same true-crime story for half a dozen networks. I knew there was an almost insatiable appetite for true crime stories, but to hear Dave put it into those terms was validating. Dave has routinely filmed interviews covering the same story for six different networks. I couldn’t shake the irony. Every outlet got their own version of the footage. Every producer got their own show. Every streamer got their slice of the audience. But the guy who lugged the camera, and stood behind the yellow tape? He got a day rate. That conversation has stayed with me because it exposes something bigger than one job (or six DP jobs for one salacious story). It reveals a structural truth about how media works and how ownership, not access, decides who wins. In the modern true-crime storytelling economy, everyone can tell the same story, but only the people who own the rights get paid long after the cameras stop rolling. The Reality Monopoly For decades, big media conglomerates have enjoyed an advantage. Their newsrooms feed the story pipeline, while their studios and streaming platforms monetize it. It plays out this way. A murder happens and the news breaks. The network’s investigative team covers it for nightly news. Months later, a “sister company” announces the limited docuseries. The reporter who uncovered the case, built trust with sources, and chased leads for months? They get thanked in the credits or interviewed for the documentary if they’re lucky. That’s not a conspiracy; it’s simply the media business model. A very profitable one. When news divisions sit under the same corporate roof as film studios and streaming platforms, stories don’t just inform the public, they fuel a content supply chain and balance sheet. The people doing the hard, dangerous, emotionally exhausting work rarely share in the upside. I’ve seen that model up close. I think it’s time to challenge it. Facts Are Free. Ownership Isn’t. You can’t copyright reality. You can’t own a crime, a scandal, or a court case. But you can own the way you investigate it, interpret it, and shape it into a compelling narrative. The intellectual property exists in the telling or “expression” of the story. When a journalist like T.J. English writes The Corporation or The Last Kilo, he’s not just reporting facts. He’s crafting a work of authorship, his unique expression of that story that is protected by copyright law. That expression is what studios pay seven figures to adapt. You heard me right, seven figures. Look it up. It can be lucrative if you are a gifted storyteller who puts in the hard work of crafting the story in an emotionally compelling way. T.J. isn’t alone. The same goes for David Grann, whose book Killers of the Flower Moon began as meticulous reporting. When Apple Studios bought the film rights, they weren’t buying history, they were buying his expression or telling of it. Ownership lives in the expression, not the event. That’s what most journalists never realize until it’s too late. How Big Media Keeps the Rights Inside legacy newsrooms, the system is designed to strip ownership from creators. “Work-for-hire” contracts make the company the author of record. There is nothing nefarious in this arrangement. It is simply smart business. Your investigation might be brilliant, but the corporation owns the footage, the notes, the transcripts, even your emails. They paid you for your work. They own it. You don’t. If that same company later adapts the story into a docuseries, you can’t claim a share because technically, you created it as their employee. The corporation didn’t steal it. They structured it that way from day one. Like I said, nothing nefarious is going on, it is simply a smart storytelling business model at work. It’s also why many of the most talented investigative journalists end up with impressive résumés but limited leverage. They generate value, but they don’t own it. But if they decide to write a book and work independently, well that’s a different story. Possibly, one with a seven-figure potential. The Rise of the Journalist-Producer A quiet rebellion is underway. In a world where more media is created by the masses than by mass media, independent journalists are starting to treat their investigations like creative properties instead of disposable assignments. They’re filing copyrights, writing treatments, self-publishing e-books, and launching narrative podcasts. They are creating assets before ever approaching Hollywood. Once the story is codified as an authored work, it becomes something that can be licensed or sold rather than simply covered. It is a smart approach. That’s how T.J. English built a career that moved seamlessly from crime reporting to producing. It’s how Sarah Koenig turned Serial into a franchise that redefined the podcast landscape. It’s how small investigative teams behind shows like Dirty John and Dr. Death parlayed journalism into multi-platform IP. The formula is simple, but powerful: Do the reporting. Shape the narrative. Secure the rights. Then choose your partners; don’t let them choose you. My Own Lesson Earlier this year, a promising project collapsed at the eleventh hour, which taught me an expensive but valuable lesson about story ownership and our business model. When I launched my company, I positioned it as a fee-for-service storytelling firm. We helped clients own their stories, first through video projects, then later through higher-end productions designed to help them monetize those stories. In 2023, I approached a labor union with a bold idea: preserve its colorful history and build a foundation for a true-crime-style series. The union’s past included fascinating characters, corruption, and organized crime — everything a filmmaker could ask for. For two years, I worked to move the project through their leadership. By September 2024, they approved the concept and asked for a contract. Then the deal stalled. For six months, I tried to get it signed. Finally, in January, one board member torpedoed the entire effort. Disappointing? Yes. But also clarifying. The same union official who killed the deal introduced me to a crime writer who had already done the story work. That’s when it clicked. We didn’t need the union’s permission to tell the story. Their cooperation would have been helpful, but the value of the project was never in their ownership of the history, it was in the telling of it. That’s what Hollywood pays for. The reason studios pursue journalists, authors, and screenwriters is simple: the creative expression is the asset. A well-crafted narrative, not the raw events, is what commands seven-figure deals. I realized I’d structured my business backward. By centering the “client,” I was giving away or undervaluing the most valuable part of the process – the storytelling. Authorship. Expression. That is us, not them. The better approach is to commit to the story, build the team, and then approach those who lived the story to see if they want to be involved. That is an entirely different offer. The smarter path, and the one we are developing with our independent film studio is creator-driven storytelling: partnering with writers, journalists, and filmmakers who already own or can create the underlying story material and then connecting with sources like the union. That’s the Hollywood model. Option the story, develop it, and protect it through copyright. Own the production process. There is no need to validate that model. It’s how a growing three-trillion-dollar global industry already builds enduring value. I just wish I’d realized it sooner. Our Storytelling for ALL Philosophy At STORYSMART®, we believe creative ownership shouldn’t belong exclusively to media giants with legal departments and distribution pipelines. It belongs to the people who lived the story, researched the truth, or invested the time to tell it Well. That includes journalists, authors, documentarians, families, and even victims’ advocates. We see it as creator collective that shares ownership with investors and story sources. Our philosophy is simple: Ownership is participation. The people who build the story should share in the reward. We believe transparency builds trust. Equity and collaboration prevent exploitation. Shared success creates sustainability. A fair deal today means more truth tomorrow. We’re developing an independent studio that partners with journalists and researchers who already have access, relationships, and deep work behind them, giving them the production and financing support to finish strong without surrendering creative control. The old model says: “We’ll buy your story.” Our model says: “Let’s own it together.” A Quick Reality Check for Journalists If you’re an investigative reporter, author, or filmmaker sitting on a powerful real-life story, here’s a simple checklist: Document Your Work . Keep research logs, interview transcripts, and a clear outline of your narrative. That becomes evidence of your authorship. Create an Original Expression. Write a treatment, an article, or a manuscript that shapes the facts into your storytelling lens. Once it’s expressed, it’s protectable. Secure Releases Early. Get written permissions from sources or subjects to use their likeness, materials, or interviews. It costs nothing now and saves everything later. Register Your Copyright. A $45 registration with the U.S. Copyright Office turns your effort into a recognized creative work. You still have protection without filing, but filing provides additional benefits. Explore Partnership Models. Don’t default to work-for-hire. Find collaborators who offer shared ownership or back-end participation. Equity isn’t just for investors — it’s for creators. Why This Matters Now We’re living through a moment when truth itself feels commodified. Disinformation spreads faster than facts. Outrage outperforms nuance. And yet, audiences crave authentic, deeply reported storytelling more than ever. That tension makes true-crime storytelling one of the few places where journalism, art, and commerce collide. The question isn’t whether these stories will be told. It’s who gets to tell them and who profits when they’re told. Independent storytellers are proving that ownership doesn’t require a newsroom behind you. It requires discipline, courage, and a basic understanding of how value moves through the entertainment system. When you treat your story as IP, you don’t just protect your work, you amplify its impact. You ensure that the people who uncover truth can afford to keep doing it. The Democratization of Story Power For most of history, the means of production (cameras, crews, edit bays, distribution) belonged to highly capitalized corporations. You needed real wealth to create wealth through production. Today, the means of production fit in your backpack. You can shoot, edit, and distribute globally for a fraction of what it once cost a network. You can crowdfund, self-release, or partner with equity-minded studios. The gatekeepers are still there, but their gates are rusting. That’s why this moment matters. We can finally democratize truth-telling, not by tearing down journalism, but by giving journalists ownership in the stories they create. That’s the future I’m betting on with the development of our storytelling collective. From Reporting to Royalties Let’s be honest: most journalists didn’t choose the profession to get rich. But that doesn’t mean they should stay broke while others cash in on their work. The current media model rewards corporations for scale, not individuals for integrity. It’s time to flip that script. If you’ve put your heart, risk, and reputation into uncovering a story, you deserve more than a paycheck and a headline. You deserve a stake. That’s the promise of independent, equity-based non-exploitative storytelling. A world where truth-tellers are not just heard but compensated fairly for the work they do. The future of storytelling will belong to those who stop renting their talent and start owning their work. Because in a world overflowing with information, truth is everyone’s, but the telling is yours. That is where the real value lives. About the Storytelling for ALL™ Newsletter The Storytelling for ALL™ LinkedIn Newsletter is a guide to making the most of your true story. Twice a month, I'll share proven strategies, creative approaches, and industry-tested tools to help you take control of your narrative, protect your rights, and collaborate with great storytellers to bring your vision to life. You’ll get practical, actionable insights to adapt your story into a book, film, documentary, or legacy preservation project — using the same approaches that top professionals rely on, now made accessible to you. Whether you’re an athlete, public figure, entrepreneur, or someone with a story worth telling, this is where you’ll learn to share it — on your terms. Join the conversation with #StorytellingForALL and reach out to me personally if I can help.

The Theater of Revelation I didn’t expect to get emotional in the movie theater that afternoon. But as the credits rolled on Truth & Treason , I sat in the dark with my wife, profoundly moved. The film chronicles the real-life courage of Helmuth Hübener, a German teenager who defied Hitler’s propaganda by distributing leaflets of truth. He was executed for treason at seventeen. It’s one of the best films I’ve seen in a long time. Watching it, I realized it wasn’t just about Nazi Germany. It was about what happens when fear, fatigue, and convenience persuade decent people to stay quiet while bad things happen around them. In that sense, it was a message to me about what I need to do as a filmmaker, a business owner, and as an American. That is why I’ve decided to violate one of my Cardinal rules of business with this article. For years, I’ve believed in civility. Diplomacy. I built a career around respect, meeting people where they are, avoiding politics, and finding common ground. My diplomacy-first approach has served me well for most of my life. But I also know that my tendency for conflict avoidance is a fault. Lately, I’ve started asking a harder question: At what point does restraint, conflict avoidance, and staying silent become complicity? My work these days centers on helping people take control of their stories. But watching Truth & Treason made me realize something deeper: stories don’t just reflect who we are, they shape who we become. And in an age where lies move faster than light, maybe telling the truth is the most radical act of all. My Documentary Director's Perspective

If you’ve been following me for a while, you’ve heard me beat the drum about taking control of your story. About owning your rights. About protecting the intellectual property that comes from your life experiences. I’ll keep beating that drum because your story is one of your greatest assets. But here’s the counterintuitive truth I want to explore today: simply living a great story isn’t where the real value lies. It isn’t inherently valuable as a blob of ideas or past experiences. From a financial standpoint, your “story” is worthless without “storytelling.” It is the creative process of sharing or producing a story that drives most of the value of that story. The harsh truth is that the real value of a film or TV series based on a true story lies primarily in its production. The quality of the story's telling drives more of the financial value than any other factor. The life rights and cooperation of the subjects of true stories have some financial value, but it is typically disproportionate to the most critical investments in driving monetary value. More than ninety percent of the value of a story comes not from the fact that it happened, but from how it’s told. That explains why there is such a disparity in how much securing rights accounts for in most Hollywood projects. Life rights and related expenses are typically less than five percent of the overall budget of a film based on a true story. Now, that fraction would likely be different if you were Taylor Swift or some other big celebrity. A crap story about a celebrity can sell and make money. And a great one can too. And it is fair to say the celebrity brings more to those projects than to the typical “true story”. They can typically demand more than 5%. But even in most of these cases, the life rights don’t exceed ten percent (10%) of the overall budget because the most important investments with the highest return on investment are creative. That may sound surprising coming from someone who’s consistently talked about the importance of ownership. But stick with me on this, because this is where balance, not being greedy, and not being selfish, comes in. While understanding your rights and the advantages of controlling the process are essential, to maximize the profitability of sharing your story, you must recognize the critical role of the creators in crafting your narrative. They will typically bring much more value to it than you will. The storytelling team and their work will drive most of the real value of your story. The value of storytelling lies in the creative craft of storytelling. The High School Summer Vacation Essay Analogy Think back to high school. Imagine you had the most epic summer vacation of anyone in your class. You traveled to places your classmates had never seen, you met fascinating people, you had experiences that would make for an unforgettable story. Now picture the teacher assigning an essay: “Write about your summer vacation.” Just because you lived the best story doesn’t mean you’ll tell it well. Your essay might read flat, while a classmate with a far less exciting summer writes something so engaging it has everyone laughing or tearing up. The fact that you lived it and can share your account doesn’t mean your telling will do real justice to the truth of what happened. Frankly, you can do more harm than good if you share it poorly. You could turn an epic story into crap with bad storytelling. That’s the point. Storytelling is a craft. Done well, it unlocks value. Done poorly, it leaves potential on the table. If you are serious about making the most of your story, then your most important task is building a great creative team to produce the storytelling. Michael Jordan and The Last Dance Take Michael Jordan. He lived one of the most remarkable basketball careers of all time. Six championships. Back-to-back three-peats. A cultural icon beyond the court. But what made The Last Dance — the documentary chronicling those final two championship seasons — a global hit wasn’t just his career stats. It was how the story was told. Jordan was smart. He controlled the rights to the footage. He waited until the timing was right. And when he finally moved forward, he chose the creative storytelling team he wanted. He demanded excellence from the storytellers. He provided access, but then he let them do their work. The result? A ten-part masterpiece that captivated audiences around the world. Jordan wanted control, yes. And he took his rightful share of the profits. But he wasn’t greedy. He understood that value multiplies when you pair the raw story with the right storytellers. That is the lesson for you. T aylor Swift: Beachfront Property Analogy Now, not everyone starts from the same place. Taylor Swift is the rare example of someone who could put out a shaky iPhone documentary, and millions would watch. Her fandom guarantees it. That’s beachfront property in the world of stories if storytelling were real estate development. Her land is so prime that people will line up no matter what you build on it. But here’s the thing: even Taylor doesn’t stop there. She hires the right creative team to undertake the work at her direction. She invests in quality storytelling. She crafts eras. She layers her music with symbolism. She produces high-quality films of her concerts, transforming a live show into something fans will relive for years. She proves that even when the land is prime, the right development makes it exponentially more valuable. She is STORYSMART®. Jordan and Swift are showing us the way. Where Balance Comes In So where does that leave the rest of us? Owning your story doesn’t mean hoarding it or being greedy. When it comes to professional storytelling at the highest level, selfish is stupid. It doesn’t mean going it alone. But it also doesn’t mean handing it over to someone else and hoping they’ll do it justice. Great storytelling requires creative collaboration. That concept of smart, creative collaboration drives our work. The STORYSMART® Way is about balance, inclusion, and bringing together the best of what exists in storytelling today. It’s about honoring the authenticity of your lived experience while recognizing the immense creative lift it takes to transform that experience into something that resonates with audiences. It’s about forging partnerships that elevate the story while preserving its integrity. That’s why I talk about an ecosystem. One that rewards the person who lived the story and values the storytellers who bring it to life. Balance, not greed. Partnership, not exploitation. Creative collaboration. That’s where actual value lives. It is also what sets our framework apart from anything else you’ll find in this space. It is about bringing professionals in and giving them equity in telling your story. That is the most radical – and I’d argue, the most sensible – aspect of our approach. You don’t face an “either or” binary decision of selling out or doing it yourself. There is another way that marries the best of both into a hybrid approach – a collectivist or joint venture approach that has the potential to take your story to a transcendent level. The Real Estate Analogy Think of it like real estate. Land has inherent value. Beachfront will always be worth more than a rocky hillside (unless it has a killer view). But raw land doesn’t generate returns until you bring in architects, engineers, and builders. Quality development happens when a multi-disciplinary team collaborate like an elite level symphony performing a masterpiece. Storytelling is the same. It requires collaboration. In this analogy, your lived experience is like the land. The storytellers — the writers, filmmakers, producers, editors — are the architects and builders. Together, you collaborate to create something that multiplies the value of both. Even the best land will underperform if developed poorly. And average land, in the right hands, can become something extraordinary. Why This Matters Now We live in a time when technology and access to information have democratized storytelling. Anyone can pick up a camera, start a podcast, or self-publish a book. That’s exciting. However, the reality is that the signal-to-noise ratio is high. There is much crap out there. Millions of stories are competing for attention. Only the ones told with skill, craft, and excellence break through. That’s why quality matters more than ever. If you’ve lived something meaningful, you don’t just need to protect it — you need to tell it well. And telling it well requires recognizing the innate talents of storytellers and respecting the creative process. That starts with understanding the financial potential of the right creative collaboration. That’s the philosophy behind STORYSMART. We’re not here to replace Hollywood or declare traditional studios “bad.” Quite to the contrary. We love creators and the art they create. We’re here to pioneer a new model. One that blends the best practices of the creator economy and independent filmmaking. One that says: • The true story matters. • The storyteller matters. • And together, we can share in the value we create together. A Radical New Way Forward I don’t see the current system as broken. I see it as incomplete and corrupted by winner-take-all greed. For too long, the rewards of storytelling have tilted toward whoever controlled the intellectual property. That’s just how the business has worked. But the future is about more than control. It’s about creative collaboration. It’s about sharing. It’s about building an ecosystem where the source of the story and the team that tells it both benefit fairly and equitably. High-quality, professional storytelling for all. That’s the vision we have for the creator-owned story development studio we are pioneering. For us, it’s the way forward. In the story we are writing as we build our studio, we don’t see a villain other than systemic greed and selfishness. I see it like the movie Jaws. If you ask most people who the villain is in Jaws, most will say the shark. But they would be wrong. From a storytelling standpoint, the “villain” of that story was the town’s greed. After discovering the remains of a shark attack victim, Police Chief Brody wanted to close the beach to swimmers, but the city pushed back because it was their busy season. Don’t Be Greedy – Collaborate with Creatives If you want your story to reach the audiences it deserves, remember that more than ninety percent of the value comes from how it’s told. That means you should be investing in building your storytelling dream team, just as you would be if you were the head of your own film studio. Attach the right names to your project. Trust me when I say that having a Tom Cruise, Meryl Streep, or Taylor Sheridan wanting to help with your story will only add value. Think like that. Find the right team. The right writer. The right producer, the right director, and so on. Reject the outdated thinking that you have only two choices. Sell out or do it yourself. Selfish is stupid when it comes to storytelling at the highest levels. Embrace creative collaboration. Think partnership, joint venture, shared equity, and mitigating risk by building a dream team. At STORYSMART®, we help you navigate the path of turning your story into a film while maintaining control of your narrative. If this resonates with you, I encourage you to join our FREE STORYSMART® Storytelling for ALL™ Community, pick up my book STORYSMART Storytelling for ALL: How to Take Control, Own Your True Story and Profit Like a Hollywood Insider, or reach out to me personally. About the Storytelling for ALL™ Newsletter The Storytelling for ALL™ LinkedIn Newsletter is a guide to making the most of your true story. Twice a month, I'll share proven strategies, creative approaches, and industry-tested tools to help you take control of your narrative, protect your rights, and collaborate with great storytellers to bring your vision to life. You’ll get practical, actionable insights to adapt your story into a book, film, documentary, or legacy preservation project — using the same approaches that top professionals rely on, now made accessible to you. Whether you’re an athlete, public figure, entrepreneur, or someone with a story worth telling, this is where you’ll learn to share it — on your terms. Join the conversation with #StorytellingForALL and reach out to me personally if I can help.

In the digital media age, outrage is currency. Not just emotional currency, but authority, engagement, and sometimes market value. What if the anger you see bubbling up on social feeds isn’t purely organic, but instead the product of a manufactured campaign — run at industrial scale, with bots, trolls, and fake accounts fanning the flames? That’s the story behind two recent flashpoints: the Cracker Barrel logo debacle and the Charlie Kirk killing in Utah. The common thread: replay of a familiar playbook in digital influence operations. I first became aware of this issue when I oversaw social media for the St. Louis Cardinals. We were victimized by trolling that we later found out where fake accounts controlled by someone with an agenda. It happens more than you realize. It is important to understand that much of what you see online isn’t necessarily what it appears to be. I ‘ve been trying my darndest to educate my son about this troubling reality. The Playbook: From Real Trigger to Manufactured Tsunami A typical sequence: a genuine event or brand decision appears. Then somewhere in the feed, suddenly, an initial wave of harsh commentary. But this is amplified by networks of automated or semi‐automated accounts: fake profiles posting a high volume of posts, repeating identical talking points, deploying hashtags, creating the impression of a massive grassroots revolt. Humans then amplify the outrage further — natural users who treat the commentary as genuine, join in the pile-on. Media notices. The target reacts. The narrative crystalizes and people believe it as gospel. This dynamic has been studied in academic research: for example, social bots increased exposure to negative and inflammatory content during the 2017 Catalan referendum . The pattern has been labelled “ rage-farming ” — taking a benign or business decision, stripping context, and turning it into a cultural event by generating outrage. Case One: Cracker Barrel’s Rebrand (or “Crisis”) In August 2025, Cracker Barrel introduced a minimalist redesign of its iconic logo — removing the figure of the man leaning on the barrel, simplifying the brand. What followed, on social media, looked like a cultural backlash — waves of posts accusing the company of erasing “Americana,” capitulating to “woke” agendas, and provoking a boycott narrative. But data suggests the backlash was largely orchestrated. Research from PeakMetrics found that 44.5% of posts on X on the first day of the controversy were posted by “bots or likely bots” — nearly double the normal rate for brand discussions. Another analysis by Cyabra found that 21 % of the profiles attacking Cracker Barrel were fake accounts, generating 4.4 million potential views and correlating with a roughly 10.5 % drop in the chain’s stock price (≈ US$100 million in market value). In short: what may have started as a legitimate brand evolution was transformed into a crisis — arguably by actors seeking to create the appearance of consumer revolt rather than organic outrage. Pull this thread back and you’re looking at an influence operation using brand identity as knock-on effect weaponry. Case Two: The Killing of Charlie Kirk & the Disinformation Cascade Divides Us When conservative activist Charlie Kirk was killed in Utah in September 2025, the immediate social media reaction was chaotic and fast. But analysis reveals that part of the reaction to the podcaster’s killing was not spontaneous: foreign adversaries and bot networks seized the moment to amplify narratives of American dysfunction, civil war, and conspiracy. For example: over 6,000 mention clusters across official Russian, Chinese and Iranian channels within a week of the event. The U.S. state-level warning was immediate: Utah Governor Spencer Cox said “We have bots from Russia, China, all over the world that are trying to instill disinformation and encourage violence.” One article summarizes: “America’s adversaries have long used fake social media accounts, online bots and disinformation to depict the US as a dangerous country beset with extremism and gun violence.” The mechanics? Bot and troll networks inserted themselves into the conversation when the topic was searing. This was a breaking news dynamic. The news had not yet fully solidified, facts were still emerging. In that void, false claims proliferated: about who the shooter was, their motive, links to Ukraine, Israel, trans-ideology, etc. These narratives served broader purpose: to stoke domestic divisions, diminish trust in institutions, and disrupt public discourse at a moment of crisis. Why This Matters for STORYSMART® Practitioners For storytellers, consultants, brand strategists and communicators working in a high-noise online world, this dual trend — manufactured outrage + influence operations — poses multiple red flags and opportunities. 1. Perception vs. reality. Just because an online backlash looks huge does not mean it’s genuine. The data from Cracker Barrel shows how nearly half the early posts were automated. Without discerning bots from humans, brands or agencies may mis-read audience sentiment and mistake a manufactured wave for real consumer demand. 2. Narrative acceleration. In the age of bots + algorithms, once a narrative is injected it can spread from inauthentic accounts to real humans to media headlines — creating feedback loops that feel authentic but are engineered. That acceleration can force brand decisions (reversals, halts) under pressure. Cracker Barrel reversed its logo and remodel plans within weeks. 3. The wild field of breaking news. Big, fast news events (Kirk’s killing, natural disasters, etc.) are ripe targets for influence campaigns. Facts are incomplete; emotions are high; bots can fill the vacuum. If you’re communicating after such an event — whether as a journalistic storyteller, brand communicator or community-manager — you must assume noise is amplified, manipulated, and multi-layered. 4. Trust and narrative ownership. If 21 % of the profiles attacking a brand were fake (as with Cracker Barrel), then the “public opinion” you see may not be public at all but engineered. For storytellers using social listening data, this demands scrutiny: Which voices are real? Which are bots? The narrative you amplify might be the product of manipulation. 5. Media literacy and storytelling ethics. As a STORYSMART® framework practitioner, this is a perfect teaching moment. Your audiences (clients, teams, communities) need to know not just how to create stories, but how to see through manufactured ones. Because the cost of mis-reading the field is high: brand equity, public trust, even stock value can be sucked into the vortex. Key Signals: How to Spot Manufactured Outrage Here are some warning signs to watch for: A sudden spike in volume from accounts with little profile history (new accounts, no followers, generic avatars). Identical talking points repeated across multiple posts in short time. For example: #BoycottBrandX, #BrandXIsFinished. (Cyabra found this in the Cracker Barrel case.) The narrative pivots quickly from a product/brand detail (logo change) to culture-war framing (betrayal of tradition, woke agenda, etc.). Geographical spread and targeting: foreign state media or foreign language accounts join the conversation immediately after an event. (As in the Kirk case.) Rapid transition from social media to mainstream media coverage, with headlines referencing “outrage” and “backlash” even though underlying data may be murky What You Should Do Integrate authenticity analysis: Don’t assume all posts are equal. Use tools or manual scans to look for high-volume bot activity before concluding a backlash is real. Delay action until you understand the narrative origin: If a brand feels under attack, pause for five minutes to look at the data — is it genuine critics or orchestrated storm? Frame proactively, truthfully: If you manage the target brand or stakeholder, ensure your communication makes clear what you know, what you don’t know, and how you are listening. Silence or knee-jerk reaction plays into manufactured narratives. Teach your audience/stakeholders: In your STORYSMART® work, build into messaging the idea that not every “viral outrage” is grassroots. That meta-narrative — about how narratives are constructed — becomes part of the story. Monitor ripple effects: As we saw in Cracker Barrel’s case, the manufactured outrage had an actual financial cost. Public trust and brand value aren’t immune. Final Thought In the age of bots, troll farms, programmed outrage and attention-economy weapons, the line between “public sentiment” and “manufactured sentiment” is increasingly blurred. Whether you're working on a family-history documentary, a brand relaunch, or a social media campaign, the same rule applies: the source of the buzz matters. If that buzz has been engineered, you risk mis-reading the narrative, mis-allocating your voice, and playing into someone else’s story. For the STORYSMART® audience, this is a prime example of storytelling in practice: not just what story is told, but how it is seeded, amplified and weaponized. The more we understand the machinery behind the outrage, the better we can shape stories that are genuine, strategic, and resistant to manipulation.

When Deadline first reported that Bruce Springsteen’s Deliver Me From Nowhere was headed for the screen, I expected it would be more than another typical music biopic because it was based on a book that focused on a sliver of Springsteen’s life. That “sliver” was a singular defining period of Springsteen’s life. When I wrote my book, I took note of the fact that when Hollywood came calling, they first reached out to Warren Zanes who wrote the book and not Springsteen himself. I was trying to make the point about the importance of securing storytelling source material. The real work in telling a story is that of the author. Writing a great story isn’t easy. When it happens, someone in Hollywood is bound to notice. What I didn’t fully appreciate until now is that Springsteen’s story to screen journey is a masterclass in focus — a case study in how a single defining period, a writer who truly understands his subject, and a team of champions can move a story from the page to the screen in record time. Zane’s book was published 2023. A little more than two years later, the film is being released. That is amazing in of itself, but the approach to the story told is also instructive. Most people think you need your whole life story to make a film. Springsteen — and Warren Zanes — show us you don’t. It can be a sliver. The story behind this storytelling is a Boss lesson in storytelling that help you deliver your story from nowhere. 

The NCAA just approved new guidance on NIL (Name, Image, and Likeness) deals — and while the headlines mostly talk about money, what’s really at stake here is storytelling. Starting this past August, athletes have had to disclose NIL agreements over $600. Schools will help monitor and even facilitate opportunities, and standardized contracts are being promoted to protect athletes. Meanwhile, new rules for collectives are meant to stop disguised pay-for-play deals while still allowing legitimate business arrangements. ( Full NCAA release here )​ On the surface, this might sound like dry compliance policy. But here’s the STORYSMART® takeaway: Transparency is power. The clearer your contracts and disclosures, the harder it is for someone else to hijack your story or exploit your image. Standardization levels the playing field. Whether you’re a star quarterback or a swimmer at a smaller program, having clear terms makes it easier to protect your rights. Your story is the real asset. NIL isn’t just about a jersey deal or an autograph session. It’s about controlling your narrative — the way your life, your legacy, and your values are presented to the world. ​ This guidance is another reminder that athletes — like families, public figures, and estates — need to see their story as intellectual property. The athletes who win aren’t just the ones who score on the field; they’re the ones who invest in how their story is told off the field. ​ STORYSMART® Rule of Thumb: Don’t just cash a check. Build a story that grows in value over time.

At it's heart, STORYSMART® is about democratizing access to elite-level professional storytelling. Storytelling has been controlled by gatekeepers for far too long.

The Studio offers a behind-the-scenes look at the chaos of Hollywood, but there are lessons about what the industry gets right & wrong about storytelling.