1. Where Is My Creator Life Heading?
(1) What Role Does Narrative Play?
In the previous article, we examined how our dependency on the world — the external structures we lean on — produces anxiety.
- The Phenomenology of Anxiety (Foreword): No Job, No Salary, No Security
- The Phenomenology of Anxiety (Part 2): Your Anxiety Isn’t Emotional — It’s Structural.
- Waiting Hell — Why Koreans Stand in Line for 8 Hours (A Cultural Phenomenology) 🎄
This entire Phenomenology of Emotion series is grounded in a framework of World – Narrative – Body. In this piece, we will focus specifically on how narrative itself creates or dissolves anxiety. For small business owners, creators, and independent researchers, one question quietly destroys peace of mind: “Where is my life actually going?”
Whether we like it or not, the answer is — platforms decide it.
And because platforms control the trajectory of our work, we need to analyze anxiety through the lens of our relationship to platforms. So, This article is for creators and small business owners who feel anxious about their relationship with platforms. It synthesizes my personal experiences with what I’ve learned about the principles of SEO and algorithms.
(2) Narrative is How the World Moves.
What is a Narrative? A narrative is a dynamic framework for parsing the flow of time and deciphering its inherent meaning. When our experiences align with exemplary models or successful archetypes, we gain the profound conviction that we are spending our time correctly. Conversely, any deviation triggers a perception that something is fundamentally wrong, giving rise to deep-seated anxiety. Therefore, the only sustainable path is: Understanding where my life is headed — and structurally responding. If your life has a script, and that script is held by a stable structure — your anxiety drops dramatically. That is the function of narrative.
Let me make it clearer: Narrative is the temporal structure through which meaning is born. Narrative arranges events in a sequence → provides predictability → offers insight → and removes doubt about the outcome. If you cannot see your narrative — anxiety explodes.
Therefore, an exemplary and archetypal narrative serves as a benchmark for judging whether I am currently on the right track. Simply following the same trajectory as those who succeeded before me alleviates anxiety. However, the problem is that creators who have just entered the platform have not accumulated enough ‘time’ to build such a narrative.
(2) It Is Hard to Build a Narrative Without Feedback
Narrative reduces anxiety — but in the beginning, there is no feedback for that Narrative. Which means: creators, early restaurant owners, startup founders, rookie politicians, first-time researchers — all suffer the same fate: Silence.
And silence is where anxiety breeds. Before discussing what works, let’s examine how most people respond.
(3) The Failing Narrative — Buying Feedback
In any industry — content, dining, retail, politics — you never enter alone. There are always ‘The Strong’. But that is not the real threat. If you had no differentiated value, you would never have started — so competing with giants is not even the real conversation. If your business has the exact same proposition as a corporation but must charge a higher price to survive — survival probability is zero. In that case, EXIT is the rational option. Therefore, what kills us isn’t the giant competitor.
What destroys novice is the platform. MBA-era frameworks — SWOT, Porter’s Five Forces — are relics of an economy where distribution added no value. But after 2010 — distribution became the value. Platforms replaced wholesalers. Platforms became decision-makers. Platforms weaponized algorithmic control. Today:
- Restaurants depend on DoorDash
- Creators depend on YouTube / Netflix
- Writers depend on Google SEO / Medium
- Lodging depends on Airbnb
- Drivers depend on Uber
- Musicians depend on Spotify / Apple
- Consumer goods depend on Amazon
Platforms own the first point of contact with customers. And whoever owns the first point of contact —owns the decision. Thus, survival now means: you must be seen by the algorithm. Most people believe you just “pay a bit of ad money” and everything works. They misunderstand: Platforms can build you — and they can end you.
Platforms understand one critical psychological weakness: New suppliers tremble in anxiety because they don’t know whether they are doing well. Algorithms are, of course, secret. They never say “you’re doing great.” Because telling you that → does NOT make them money. Instead — they sell traffic. Examples:
- Medium → pay $5 to a publication → more exposure
- YouTube → buy Ads → instant impressions
- Instagram → pay to expand reach → higher visibility
- Google → Google Ads + Reddit backlinks → inflate ranking
- Delivery apps → pay for better placement → more orders
The structure is eerily identical.
Buy traffic → Receive customer feedback → Gain narrative certainty (“Yes, I’m growing.”)
This is B.F. Skinner’s pigeon experiment —the dopamine script. Variable reward → dopamine addiction → you never escape. When you cannot generate your own narrative, dopamine loops fill the void. Sometimes — this is okay. If it increases survival — paying the platform may be rational. But dependence has a cost: Once you rely on purchased feedback, you lose the ability to walk the road you could have walked. And three problems emerge from feedback-purchasing.
First Failure: Persona Misalignment → Worldview Dilution
When we create food or content, we are never creating randomly. We always unconsciously picture a persona that “fits” — someone whose lifestyle and taste would resonate. But platforms never guarantee that the customers we intended will be the ones delivered to us. Especially in the early stage of distribution — neither the platform nor the algorithm truly understands who we are yet.
If we panic and buy traffic too early, exposure happens — but it is not precision exposure. We paid → they show us → the numbers rise. It looks like narrative is progressing. It feels like validation. But if sales come from random, impulsive, mismatched traffic, your original customer persona starts to collapse. The “tail” begins to shake the “head.” Soon you start adjusting to those unintended customers. Before long, you become a general store — selling whatever anyone wants.
And that destroys worldview. In today’s era, even restaurants are no longer selected for “function.” They are selected for lifestyle. People don’t want merely function satisfaction — they want desire satisfaction. Algorithms behave the same way. If your identity is unclear:
“What are you exactly?” , “Not particularly tasty, not an expert, not insightful, not entertaining…” → No recommendation. No exposure.
Then what happens? You must pay more traffic money — or disappear.
Second Failure: Algorithm Is Hard to Trust
I have run restaurants. I run blogs. I’ve used Google Ads, Instagram, Facebook. My conclusion: Only four platforms are truly reliable in algorithmic judgment: Google, YouTube, Amazon, Netflix. Even ChatGPT and Gemini will not recommend raw, unpolished, high-character restaurants or creators. AI prefers “safe, average, risk-managed” options. Those four big platforms have:
- tens of billions of users
- massive algorithm budgets
- and a singular goal: perfectly match user preference with provider identity
Even if you do not spend a single penny on advertising, Google will recommend your content as long as it matches the searcher’s preferences. If you target the right customer persona based on a clear worldview, it inevitably yields higher satisfaction and longer dwell times than merely attracting users through random exposure. (As I have written before: My restaurant in Korea — Slovakians kept coming. Because identity matched.)
But even those platforms can suddenly send us into hell. Why? Because algorithms change daily / weekly / monthly. Paid exposure does not save us: If users bounce immediately, algorithm learns “this is irrelevant” → no more organic exposure. Look at Reddit — thousands of people crying:
“Google removed my ranking for no reason.”, “Index deleted without explanation.”
The only way to prepare for the whims of these algorithms is to clarify your identity.
Third Failure: Time Itself Gets Destroyed
Relying on feedback from purchased traffic blocks content quality from being upgraded by the power of time because the stimulus-response dopamine is so intense. You end up constantly going all-in on new content. In Korea, this is called “one video a day” or “one post a day.”
Have you experienced this?
- Reading your old writings → cringe
- Cooking early-startup recipes → tastes worse now
- Watching old videos → feels childish, embarrassing
This evolution occurs because the maker changes. The interpretive tools we possess—body, skill, knowledge, and senses—are not static; they develop over time. Even an individual living in isolation perceives the environment differently as seasons shift. New physical challenges expand perception, and subsequent failures refine sensory accuracy. When creative output or content stagnates, it indicates that the creator has ceased to evolve. The engine of quality improvement is time acting upon the maker.
Authors like Ernest Hemingway and Stephen King understood this mechanism. They routinely placed completed manuscripts in storage, allowing the work to age before reviewing it with fresh senses. This transition from raw material to a finished product requires time for maturation. This process defines true craftsmanship.
Conversely, a lack of confidence in one’s narrative induces urgency. Creators frequently resort to purchasing traffic, which initiates a short-term reward cycle and destroys the necessary timeline for growth. Platforms consistently demand immediate and continuous publication, threatening invisibility if production halts. This pressure compromises the essential period required for maturation.
A phase of silence does not signify stagnation. It represents a period of unobserved development, where internal data accumulates and creative capacity strengthens. Inability to endure the anxiety of this silence often results in the production of fragmented, undisciplined content for immediate feedback. Eventually, as time progresses, the system ceases to recognize the creator, leading to a loss of identity and relevance.
2. Self-Diagnosis Test for Survival Structure
Restaurant owners, politicians, creators, Researchers — it’s all the same. Anyone who sells something they created is ruled by platform algorithms. But early on, our narrative isn’t clear — so we feel anxious. The fastest way to reduce that anxiety is to diagnose “Where is my narrative right now?” Once the flow becomes visible — you simply follow it.
(1) Question 1 — Who are you?
Platform algorithms only elevate suppliers with a clear identity. When an identity is obscure, neither the algorithm nor the consumer retains it.
In the digital ecosystem, identity is quantified through experience, expertise, authority, and trustworthiness. Consumers and algorithms alike demand this clarity because users abandon content immediately when it fails to align with their expectations. The system operates on a straightforward criterion: evaluating whether a creator offers a distinct worldview.
When an identity is well-defined, the algorithm indexes the creator within a specific field, ensuring stable and long-term exposure. Conversely, an ambiguous profile is categorized as a superficial diary that lacks insight, expertise, or entertainment value.
This mechanism becomes evident when analyzing content consistency. A query to an AI search model regarding my previous blog returned an evaluation that the content consistency was weak, resembling a personal diary. In contrast, the model now defines my current platform as a space dedicated to two classifications: producer sovereignty and phenomenological management.
While a single query does not represent the entirety of an algorithm, it indicates how systems construct and categorize early identity.
Action Checklist — How to Establish Identity
- Can you express the worldview you sell in a single sentence?
- All content, menus, and conversation topics must originate from the same worldview.
For example, I set ‘producer sovereignty’ and ‘phenomenological management’ as my two core themes and expand them into various subjects. I never cover topics outside this scope, such as sports, parenting, or gaming. The goal is always to survive as a sovereign individual. Maintaining a consistent worldview makes it easy to create cross-reference links, which helps the platform recognize the site as an authority.
This principle comes from my real restaurant experience: When people searched “German pub near me,” I intentionally did not sell random Korean snacks — so the concept would index clearly at Google & Naver (Korean platform)
(2) Question 2 — Does it actually help the user? (Value)
Algorithms judge “value” using three factors:
- Entertainment
- Expertise
- Insight
If even one of these is clear → the content is considered useful. Channels that consistently deliver one of these: are watched longer, do not trigger quick exits, generate return visit → so algorithms grant persistent exposure. Even politicians operate on this logic: Humor, competence/expertise, and a firm belief/stance → that is how one becomes president. A politician who only “snipes” and fights never becomes great. Today, entertainment or insight often outweighs expertise — because AI has flattened the value of expertise. In the mass target market, Those who spoon-feed knowledge — interestingly or uniquely — take the traffic.
(3) Question 3 — Does it taste like AI (or factory-made meal kits)?
This test is less critical than Question 2 — but increasingly important in algorithmic evaluation. Using AI is fine. But: It becomes dangerous if the algorithm recognizes it as AI-generated. The core is 1% human touch. Platforms know users are getting disappointed by mass-produced AI content. Reports show that modern platforms now use LLMs to analyze text, metadata, patterns — meaning platforms no longer rely only on user-reaction metrics.
The defining characteristic of AI-generated content is its tendency to deliver overly generic, average stories in a strictly logical manner, completely lacking human experiences or distinct perspectives. This inevitably dilutes the very ‘identity’ emphasized above.
My own experience of stepping away from YouTube deeply ties into this reality. Because I write the scripts myself, I assumed my sincerity would still resonate even if the videos were produced using AI. However, viewers perceived it differently; I received several comments labeling it as ‘AI Slop.’ If my true intentions are distorted simply because it carries the scent of AI, there is no longer any reason to pursue it. I realized that leaving human traces throughout the writing and translating process is far more effective for anchoring one’s identity.
3. Conclusion
Anxiety does not stem from a lack of skill, but from an inability to discern the narrative toward which life is moving. This uncertainty is particularly acute in the early stages.
To escape this anxiety, many resort to purchasing traffic, relying prematurely on automation, or attempting to offer everything to everyone. These choices dilute a worldview and render an identity obscure, eventually causing the system to disregard the creator entirely.
Survival requires a different sequence. It begins with establishing a clear identity that defines who you are. This identity must then generate tangible value through expertise, entertainment, or insight. Finally, it demands the maintenance of a human touch—an acceptance of time, change, and the process of maturation.
It is natural to feel anxious when a narrative remains invisible. However, purchasing a narrative traps a creator within the short-term reward cycles of the platform. Conversely, constructing that narrative independently transforms anxiety into direction, and that direction ultimately ensures survival.
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