365 Days of writing, 2026 – 61 – Thrills, Spills, and just a dash of Romance

Day 61 – Relativity

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Creating the Un‑Relatable to Be Truly Relatable

What Barry Jenkins’ paradoxical warning tells us about art, storytelling, and the quest for genuine connection

“If you try to create something that everyone can relate to, you’re gonna make something that no‑one can relate to.” – Barry Jenkins

When the Academy‑winning director of Moonlight and If Beale Street Could Talk drops this line, it lands like a well‑timed plot twist: it feels obvious, yet it rattles the comfortable assumptions we make about “universal” storytelling. In the age of algorithm‑driven content and mass‑appeal franchises, Jenkins’ warning feels both a warning sign and a rallying cry for creators who dare to be specific, risky, and, paradoxically, deeply human.

Below, we unpack the paradox, trace its roots in Jenkins’s own work, explore why “universal” often translates to “vague,” and walk away with concrete takeaways you can apply to any creative medium—whether you’re writing a novel, directing a short, designing a product, or crafting a brand story.

1. The Myth of the “Everyone‑Can‑Relate” Story

1.1. A Comfort Zone for Studios and Marketers

In Hollywood boardrooms, “universal appeal” is a budget line item. It promises box‑office safety: “Make a love story that anyone, anywhere, can get.” The same logic runs through advertising agencies (“a message that resonates with every demographic”) and even software design (“features that anyone can use”).

But, as marketers define it, universality often collapses into genericness. When you try to flatten the myriad shades of human experience into one “average” feeling, you lose the texture that makes any emotion or situation feel real.

1.2. The Psychological Counter‑Strike

Human brains are wired to recognise patterns and seek novelty. When a story leans too heavily on clichés—“the underdog triumphs,” “the love triangle resolves,” “the hero’s journey”—the brain flags it as “already known.” The emotional impact dwindles, and the audience disengages.

Aiming for “everyone” inadvertently triggers that disengagement because the work becomes predictable and impersonal.

2. Barry Jenkins: From the Specific to the Universal

2.1. The Personal Lens of Moonlight

Moonlight follows three chapters of Chiron’s life—a Black, gay boy growing up in a Miami housing project. The specifics are unmistakable:

The heat of a Miami night.
The rhythm of a neighbourhood barbershop.
The ache of a mother battling addiction.

Yet the film’s emotional core—searching for identity, yearning for love, the pain of invisibility—resonates far beyond the particularity of Chiron’s experience. Jenkins never diluted those specifics; he amplified them with lyrical cinematography and an intimate sound design that let any viewer feel the ache, regardless of background.

2.2. The Power of “Specificity as a Gateway”

Jenkins has spoken about his writing process: “I write what I know, and I hope that what I know is something someone else has felt but can’t name.” The mantra is simple—be true to the moment you inhabit, and the universality will follow. In practice:

Specific Element	Why It Connects Universally
A single, lingering glance between two strangers	Captures the universal tension of unspoken longing
The sound of a sprinkler in a summer backyard	Evokes any memory of a quiet, nostalgic summer
The smell of burnt toast on a rainy morning	Triggers a sensory flashback that anyone can recall

Jenkins doesn’t “add a universal subtitle” after the fact; his specifics are the universal signposts.

3. Why “Everybody‑Can‑Relate” = “No‑One‑Can‑Relate”

Pitfall	What It Looks Like	Why It Fails
Over‑Generalization	A love story where the couple never experiences conflict, and the conflict is always “a misunderstanding that’s quickly resolved.”	Conflict drives narrative tension; without it, stakes evaporate.
Cultural Sanitization	Removing regional dialects, customs, or context to make a story “more global.”	Strips away authenticity; the audience feels a lack rather than a bridge.
Emotion Dilution	“Feeling sad” becomes the only emotional cue, with no particular cause.	Sadness alone is a vague umbrella; audiences need a why to empathize.
Predictable Structure	Relying solely on the classic three‑act model without twists.	Predictability leads to emotional numbness—viewers already know the destination.

When creators chase a one‑size‑fits‑all, they often erase the very details that give an experience its magnetic pull. The result is a bland, “every person in the world” product that no one sees themselves in.

4. The Counter‑Intuitive Path to True Relatability

4.1. Start With a “Micro‑Truth”

A micro‑truth is a tiny, observable slice of life that feels honest—the way a mother’s hand trembles while she folds laundry, or how a teenager’s fingers ache after a night of gaming. Write it down. Let it be the seed.

Exercise: Pick a mundane habit you have (e.g., the way you sip coffee on a rainy day). Write a 100‑word vignette that captures the sensory details, emotions, and internal monologue. Now ask: what larger feeling does this tiny moment point to? (comfort? anxiety? nostalgia?)

4.2. Layer the Universal Emotion

Once you have the micro‑truth, ask: What universal feeling does this moment embody? The answer becomes the emotional core of your piece. The specifics remain the scaffolding; the universal feeling is the roof that shelters the audience.

Micro‑truth: A dad’s hands shaking as he ties his son’s shoelaces before school.
Universal Core: Fear of letting go / love in everyday gestures.

4.3. Show, Don’t Explain

Instead of telling the audience “this is about fear of loss,” let the scene show it. The audience will infer the universality themselves—an experience far more powerful than an explicit statement.

4.4. Invite Multiple Interpretations

When a story is steeped in specific detail, each viewer projects their own memories onto it. Moonlight contains a scene of two boys sharing a moment in a bathroom; Black viewers might recall similar spaces in their own neighbourhoods, while others may remember any cramped, intimate place where secrets were whispered. The specificity creates a canvas; the audience supplies their own colours.

5. Real‑World Applications

5.1. Brand Storytelling

Instead of a generic tagline like “We’re here for everyone,” craft a narrative around a real customer’s specific moment: “When Maya, a single mom in Detroit, pulled her son’s sock off after a long night shift, she needed shoes that wouldn’t slip.” The brand then becomes the solution to that precise pain point—yet anyone who’s ever struggled with tired feet can see themselves in Maya’s story.

5.2. Product Design

Designers often chase “the user who wants everything.” The opposite is to focus on a niche use case and then let that insight inform broader usability. For example, the Dyson Airwrap was built around a specific problem—protecting hair from heat damage. By mastering that micro‑need, it appealed to a massive market of hair‑care enthusiasts who value health over convenience.

5.3. Content Creation (YouTube, Podcast, Blog)

Instead of a “how‑to be productive” video that covers every generic tip, zero in on a concrete scenario: “How I built a writing habit while caring for a newborn in a two‑room apartment.” The specificity gives viewers a hook, while the underlying desire for productivity speaks to anyone juggling responsibilities.

6. A Checklist for Avoiding the “Everybody‑Can‑Relate” Trap

Check	Ask Yourself
Specific Setting	Do I name the city, the street, the sensory details?
Distinct Voice	Does my character speak in a dialect or use phrasing unique to their background?
Concrete Conflict	What is the exact obstacle (e.g., a broken faucet, an overdue bill, a silent phone call)?
Show, Not Tell	Have I shown the emotion through actions, not just dialogue?
Universal Core	What larger feeling does this moment tap into?
Room for Projection	Does the scene leave space for the audience’s personal memories to fill in?
Avoid Cliché Fixes	Have I resisted the urge to replace a specific detail with a generic shorthand?

If you can tick all of these boxes, you’re on the right side of Jenkins’s paradox.

7. The Takeaway: Embrace the Particular, Trust the Universal

Barry Jenkins didn’t coin the idea that “specificity breeds universality”; he lived it. His films prove that when you dig deep into a singular experience, you create a mirror in which a multitude can see their own reflections—even if those reflections are of lives you never walked.

In a world where data analytics push creators toward mass‑appeal formulas, Jenkins’s counsel feels rebellious—and it should. The rebellion is not against the audience; it is against the notion that the audience is a monolith. The rebellion is a call to honour the jagged edges of our stories, trusting that those edges are precisely what make a story graspable for anyone willing to reach out.

So the next time you sit down to write, design, or pitch, remember:

“Don’t try to be everyone’s every‑thing. Be someone’s something.”

When you choose a single, authentic voice, a single, vivid moment, you open a doorway—one that countless strangers will step through, each carrying their own stories, each finding a fragment of themselves in yours.

Format	Title	Why It Helps
Film	Moonlight (2016) – Barry Jenkins	A masterclass in specific storytelling that feels universal
Book	The Art of Possibility – Rosamund & Benjamin Zander	Explores how reframing specifics can unlock broader impact
Article	“The Power of Specificity in Storytelling” – Harvard Business Review	Academic perspective on why details matter in brand narratives
Podcast	Storytelling with Data – Episode “When Numbers Get Personal”	Shows how data can be humanized through specific anecdotes

Thrills, Spills, and just a dash of Romance

One writer's experiences, and battles with words

365 Days of writing, 2026 – 61

1. The Myth of the “Everyone‑Can‑Relate” Story