If you’ve recently pulled up YouTube, you may have noticed that every video thumbnail looks . . . the same.
There’s a face frozen mid-gasp and oversized text screaming something like, “Don’t buy the new iPhone before watching this!”
It’s as if YouTube creators are running a secret competition to out-sensationalize each other using the same formula.
Then hop over to LinkedIn. You’ll find post after post of entrepreneurs parroting the same “I help” statements. “I help busy professionals reclaim their time.” “I help small businesses grow their revenue.”
This epidemic of sameness is everywhere: marketing campaigns, business pitches, or movie trailers, each trying to outdo one another while somehow sounding exactly the same.
Here’s the problem: We notice things because of contrast. Something stands out because it’s different from what surrounds it. If you blend into the background—if you show no idiosyncrasy, no fingerprints, no contrast, no anomaly—you become the background.
The very thing you’re avoiding—being different—is what people are starving for. The world doesn’t need another lookalike YouTube channel, another cookie-cutter LinkedIn profile, another echo in the digital canyon.
It needs you. Your perspective. Your voice. The thing only you can offer.
But how do you do that? How do you carve out a space that feels unmistakably yours in a world drowning in copy-paste ideas?
First, shift your focus from form to substance. Connection beats polish. A scrappy video with a unique message will outperform a glossy, forgettable one. A clunky tagline that’s honest and bold is better than a sleek one that sounds like it came off the corporate LinkedIn assembly line.
Second, embrace what you don’t know. As Sara Blakely puts it, “The big secret behind disruption is not knowing how it’s supposed to be done.” When you don’t know the “right” way, you’re free to explore other ways. That uncertainty isn’t a weakness—it’s your greatest asset for creating something truly original.
Third, the tactic is the tool, not the truth. Instead of blindly following tactics like the clichéd “I help . . .” statement, ask: Why does this exist? What’s the principle behind it? It’s to communicate who you are and what you do with clarity. When you get clear on the principle, you’re not constrained by the tactic. You can ditch the overused formulas and invent a fresh way of doing it.
Finally, amplify your quirks—those odd, unpolished edges that make you you. The qualities you’ve been taught to tone down or suppress are often the ones that hold the key to your greatest strengths.
Play is one of those qualities for me. I excelled at being playful as a child, but as I grew older, I suppressed my playful instincts with discipline and structure. But here’s what I’ve realized: that very playfulness—the thing I tried to bury—is what makes my work resonate. My best writing happens when my inner child comes out to play, unafraid of being messy, weird, or unexpected.
And yes, standing out requires work. It’s easy to copy. It’s harder to imagine. It’s easy to follow the formula. It’s harder to break it.
But here’s the truth: Nobody can out-you you. Your lived experiences, your quirks, your unique way of seeing the world—these are your competitive advantages. They can’t be duplicated or faked.
Ask yourself, What perspective, what insight, what fingerprint of mine is missing from the conversation?
Your answer isn’t just your differentiator.
It’s your revolution.
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