Lessons From My Favorite Video That Nobody Watched

And why you might want to

Back in 2011, I traveled to Yuma, Arizona to film the 36th person for my Inventor Series. At this point I had already done video interviews and photo shoots with several National Medal of Technology recipients, one Nobel Prize winner, and people who invented things you use every day like the computer mouse and Post-it Notes. But this trip was to meet someone you’ve never heard of, whose invention most people will never use, and it resulted in one of my favorite videos that nobody watched but that taught me an important lesson.

This person’s invention was not exactly earth-shattering. But my project was about inventors big and small from all walks of life, so off to Yuma I went. And that’s where I met 70 year old Julie Brown and her little dog Charlie. (Yep, the dog’s full name was Charlie Brown).

Julie had spent her career in architecture and construction, mostly as an independent general contractor. She retired early, bought a motor home and began driving around the country visiting friends. One snowy night in New Hampshire, as Julie tried to sleep, her head got uncomfortably cold through the thin walls of her motor home. That’s when she got the idea for a pillowcase with a small blanket attached just for covering your head.

Okay, it’s no computer mouse or Post-it Note. But she got a patent in 2002 and found a manufacturer. The Chill Frill Pillowcase was featured in a magazine for mobile home owners and a few other places that helped generate sales, but Julie didn’t make much money. The pillowcase was not a huge financial success.

That’s Julie’s story in a nutshell. But it’s not the invention that makes the video so interesting. It’s Julie’s attitude towards her business and lack of profitability.

As Julie tells us in the video:

My friends say, “Are you making any money yet?” And I say, “Not yet. But I’m busy. My mind is working. I’m happy. I’m not bothering anyone. And I’m doing some good. So what’s wrong with that?”

She’s not doing it to make money. She’s keeping her mind active as she ages.

But the real heart of the piece comes at around the two-minute mark in the video. After telling us about an ex-boyfriend who is no longer in her life, and how her dog Charlie has been her constant companion, Julie says:

I don't have family. So this is kind of it. No brothers, no sisters, no children. Nobody alive.

And then it seems like she’s done talking. She resumes petting Charlie. She gazes off into the distance. And there is a pause. A silence that goes on a little too long. And to fill that silence, she then adds wistfully:

Maybe that's why I don't feel bad about spending my money on the products. Because I don't have to account to anybody. It's my money, I worked hard for it. And I don't have to worry about Christmas presents. Or kids going to college. Or grandkids.

And then she wipes something — maybe a tear? — from her eye.

Julie tells us that being an inventor provides structure as she drives her mobile home around the country. By joining inventor groups as she travels, it gives her an excuse to meet people, make friends, and be social. Loneliness is a major epidemic for older Americans (even more so in the COVID era) and this provides her with a remedy.

For all of these reasons, being an inventor isn’t about gadgets or profit for Julie Brown. It’s about finding meaning in her life.

Why nobody watched it

I filmed Julie Brown in 2011 but I didn’t post the video on YouTube until 2013 as part of a series I licensed to PBS Digital Studios about inventors. Some of the other videos in the series did very well, getting more than 100,000 organic views (that was a lot of views back then). And yet, nobody was interested in the video about Julie.

In fact, in the nine years since it’s been posted, the video has only been viewed 3,723 times. Of those 3,723 people who saw it, several left comments like:

• “Wow, totally didn't expect to get choked up watching this.”

• “Portrait of American loneliness.”

• “Very beautiful portrait piece. I want to adopt her as my second grandma, please.”

So the people who watched it liked it. But I totally understand why it didn’t take off. Julie Brown is a nobody. You’ve never heard of her. You’ve never heard of her invention. There’s no click-bait in the title or thumbnail. If you’re not already vested in her story, what’s there to pull you in? What would motivate somebody to play it?

The YouTube algorithm stops suggesting videos that people don’t click on. And without being optimized for user behavior or interests, that video never really got a boost. In the 9 years since then, I’ve learned a lot about how YouTube works, and sometimes I think about refreshing the series with all new thumbnails and titles in keeping with current best practices to see what happens. They’re a bit dated stylistically, but it could still be an interesting experiment. If I move forward with it, I’ll report back how it went.

Why this video really matters

I was still getting my feet wet with video when I made this one. In the years since, I’ve made many more successful videos. But I often think back to this video for one lesson that I draw upon over and over.

It happened in that moment around two minutes in where Julie paused and I didn’t jump in to ask my next interview question. I remember that moment behind the camera. For whatever reason, I decided to just keep rolling and live in that moment, lingering and letting her figure out how to fill that uncomfortable silence. And it ended up being the most moving moment in the piece.

That was a big lesson for me in conducting interviews for documentaries, and I still do it to this day. I can come totally prepared, having done my pre-interview, with my questions ready, and knowing what I expect the person to say. But sometimes the best move is to not just go down your list of questions and get the soundbites you need. Often just creating a space for a person to be themselves and open up is the best move there is.

And that brings another edition of this newsletter to a close. As I write this, my heat isn’t working and I’m waiting for the HVAC guy to come. My head is cold. Maybe I can quickly invent a product to keep it warm until he gets here.

If I do, I’ll be sure to tell you about it next time. Until then, thanks for reading!

David

P.S. Oh, wait! Hats already exist! I’ll just put on one of those.