by Lake

The Long Walk of Marketing, Part 2

What to Do When You Realize You’re Just Walking

In part one, we explored what Stephen King’s bleakest novels teach us about brands, life, and marketing. Read it first. Click here.

There’s a reason The Long Walk lingers. It’s not because of the violence. King’s done worse. It’s not because of the dystopian world. It’s barely sketched. It’s because it feels like us.

It’s the crushing grind of a game that seemed so worth it – and winnable – when you started, and the realization that there’s not a finish line.

Fortunately, you’re not like the boys in Stephen King’s novel. You’re allowed to stop. Nobody’s going to shoot you for stepping off the road. No crowd is waiting to cheer your collapse.

So, if you’ve realized you’re not really marketing anymore—you’re just keeping pace to stay “alive”—here’s how to find your way back:

First, STOP

Breathe. You can’t strategize when you’re stuck in survival mode. Stopping is not failure. It’s the first step to clarify.

Change Paths If You Can

Sometimes you need a new adventure. Take a cue from Ansoff’s Growth Matrix:

  • Explore a different audience with market expansion
  • Add or evolve your offering with a new product
  • Or take the same product to new segment
  • Or go bold with a major diversification

Big changes require a million small ones. If you start on one of the small ones today, you’re no longer “just walking” but heading to a new destination.

Get Back to the Basics

If new products or markets are too far away or out of your control, get back to marketing’s foundation:

  • Who are you helping?
  • What’s their pain?
  • Feel it. I mean REALLY feel it.
  • How is your product or service the way out?

Great marketing isn’t about being the last brand standing. It’s about knowing and never forgetting why you’re doing the work in the first place.


by Lake

Sometimes Dead Is Better:

What Stephen King’s Pet Sematary Can Teach Marketers About Brand Resurrection

In Pet Sematary, Louis Creed learns the cost of ignoring natural endings. The death of his son is unbearable, so he turns to an ancient burial ground that promises resurrection. But what comes back isn’t what was lost.

The real horror of King’s novel isn’t the reanimation of the dead. It’s our refusal to let go. To accept loss. To allow something to stay buried.

Marketers are no different.

We cling to old campaigns, tired taglines, and “legacy products” long past their expiration date. Why? Because they used to work. Because we spent too much time and money on them. Because, like Louis Creed, we’re too close—too emotional—to see the truth.

And so we dig them up. We give them a fresh coat of paint. We whisper, “Maybe it’ll be different this time.”

But the truth is what King told us decades ago:

Sometimes dead is better.

💀 The Curse of Nostalgic Marketing

Maybe it was a killer campaign back in 2016. Perhaps it’s the product helped build the brand’s name. Maybe it’s something that the top exec simply loves . None of that means it belongs in your playbook.

The reason is simple: time marches on and everything changes. The moment has passed. The market has changed. The consumer is no longer the same.

Trying to revive a message, product, or anything that’s no longer relevant is like bringing back a body without a soul. It looks familiar but your audience can smell the rot.

At left, the cover of Stephen King's 1883 masterpiece Pet Sematary. At right, Church the cat, just back from the dead, shares a moment with Ellie.
At left, the cover of Stephen King’s 1883 masterpiece Pet Sematary. At right, Church the cat, just back from the dead, shares a moment with Ellie.

🧟‍♂️ Zombie Campaigns and the Illusion of Safety

Zombie campaigns are easy to spot:

  • They reuse old headlines that once converted but now fall flat.
  • They cling to dated visuals or voice because “it’s always been our look.”
  • They repeat the same brand story even though the customer’s pain point has evolved.

It feels safe. But it’s as dangerous as bringing back a loved one from the dead.

Because nothing eats marketing credibility faster than false storytelling, AKA lying. When you’re dragging the corpse of past success through your current messaging, the audience knows it; and assumes you’re stopped caring.

🪦 Ask Before You Resurrect

Before you dig up that old campaign, that classic tagline, that beloved-but-dusty brand mascot—ask yourself:

  • Why did it die in the first place?
    Was it the wrong message, or just the wrong time? And has that changed?
  • Has the customer changed?
    What mattered to them then might not matter now. Don’t assume they’re still grieving the same pain.
  • Can it come back better—or just back?
    There’s a difference between evolution and resurrection. One moves the story forward. The other reanimates the past.

🕯️ Let It Go, or Tell a New Story

The best marketers know when to close the book. Not every campaign deserves a reboot. Not every brand is meant to be eternal.

Sometimes the best way to honor a product, a campaign, anything is to acknowledge what it taught you and let it rest. Then come up with something new. Because in branding—as in horror—resurrection without reflection leads to monsters. “What you bring back may not be what you lost.”

Sometimes, dead is better.

by Lake

The Long Walk and Marketing

What Stephen King’s Bleakest Novel Teaches Us About Life, Brands, and Marketing

The Long Walk is Stephen King’s bleakest novel. It’s a slow and punishing read that feels vaguely like staring at an accident; you know you should look away; you want to look away, but you don’t. You can’t.

Photo by Canva’s AI

If you’re not familiar with the story:

Once a year, 100 teenage boys compete in a marathon called the Long Walk. It’s a battle of endurance supervised by robot-like soldiers. When a boy slows down once too often, the soldiers shoot him.

The last boy standing (meaning, the last boy alive) is the winner.

Throughout the story, the contestants remain in motion, surviving one painful step at a time, even as merciless exhaustion, cramps, hunger, and mental collapse sink in.

As if that’s not horrifying enough, the real horror surfaces when you fully grasp the theme. Once you see it, you can never unsee it; and it will haunt you.  

It will also remind you of certain brands…

Movement = Progress is a Big Fat Lie

Brands outlive their usefulness. Their once innovative products sink into a swamp of “me too” quicksand. Puffery and fake urgency keep the brand from drowning, but it’s an ongoing struggle.

The positioning remains intact, but the messaging rings hollow because the brand is focused on survival more than mission. The brand no longer matters. Eventually, nobody remembers why it mattered in the first place.  

That brand is no longer marketing. It’s walking, pretending that motion equals meaning. The end is always near, and it’s only a matter of time before it stumbles.

“You can’t help it. You love the idea of winning. Even when the game is killing you.”
— The Long Walk, Stephen King (writing as Richard Bachman)