Don’t Feed the Soul-Hole: 4 Rules for Making YouTube Content Without Losing Your Mind

Here’s what I’ve learned while preparing my latest YouTube video essay—”Don’t Confuse a Watch Collector with a Watch-Hoarding Demon”—which, by the way, still sits unrecorded because I haven’t found a quiet moment required to talk to a camera.

Lesson One: Open with Housekeeping—But Make It Deranged.
Begin your video not with a dry agenda but with something ridiculous and revealing. Tell your viewers how a simple search for watch straps turned into a midnight rabbit hole of vintage Camry trim packages or why you contemplated buying a Tudor Pelagos just to avoid folding laundry. Let them see your obsessions in their full neurotic bloom. Self-disclosure laced with comedy is more potent than any clickbait title.

Lesson Two: Stop Feeding the Soul-Hole.
The point of making videos is not to audition for emotional validation from strangers on the internet. That’s a black hole with no floor and no mercy. Seeking approval from the algorithmic gods only deepens the void. Instead, aim to share something real—stories, absurdities, and small slices of insight—with humility, clarity, and a firm grip on the absurdity of it all. You’re not here to be liked. You’re here to connect.

Lesson Three: In the Age of Dopamine Overload, Be Useful.
We live in an attention economy that’s basically a carnival of shrieking hucksters promising eternal youth through vitamin gummies and AI lifehacks. Most of it ends up being digital noise. Your job isn’t to out-scream them; it’s to offer substance. My strength is argumentative essays, so that’s where I stake my claim. Find your strong suit, sharpen it, and share it—preferably without a TikTok dance.

Lesson Four: Welcome Dissent Like a Grown-Up.
The comment section should not be a food fight. It should be a place where people can politely disagree without biting each other’s heads off. We live in a culture where disagreement is taken as a personal attack—like someone spit in your oat milk latte. But real disagreement, handled well, is a gift. It forces us to clarify, refine, and rethink. Without opposition, your ideas become flabby and self-congratulatory. Iron sharpens iron—just make sure it’s civil.