What criteria do you use to decide which titles from your catalog have the potential for success in which language markets?

How do you secure worldwide rights before global competitors strategically block your access to promising material?

What role do AI translations, AI voices, voice cloning, and similar production-supporting AI tools play in your internationalization strategy?

How will you ensure high-quality results for decentralized or foreign-language productions worldwide?

How do you ensure the quality and suitability of your metadata so that your program is visible in the algorithms of global platforms?

How do you attract committed international trading partners for content that has little brand awareness in their language areas?

How do you ensure an adequate margin given the power of global platforms on whose reach you depend?

What technical bottlenecks are currently hindering the smooth delivery of your digital programs to different language regions?

Welcome, Annika and Sebastian. Our podcast is called Ignite Publishing—and in a way, it’s all about that first spark. You’ve written a book together that focuses on sleep, but it also blends horror with thriller elements. What first sparked the collaboration? Annika, when did it “ignite” you

Annika: My spark moment was definitely realising that I’m actually allowed to write horror. It’s a genre that, unfortunately, isn’t very widespread in Germany. In film, a lot has happened in recent years – thanks to streaming services, horror has become more visible again, especially German horror. And that needs to happen in the book world too. That’s what we’re aiming for: to bring the horror thriller into the mainstream, to expand the horror section in bookstores so that it features not only titles from abroad but also from Germany. That’s what makes my dark heart beat faster.

Sebastian, do you feel that way too – more horror in bookstores?

Sebastian: For me, it goes back to an idea from a long time ago. In 2013, if I’m not mistaken, “Der Nachtwandler” came out, and I had written a half-sentence in which the protagonist reflects on what it would be like if you could watch your dreams the next day – on TV, on your phone or on a pair of glasses. That was the moment when I thought: That’s actually a good idea. I’d love to watch my dreams – after all, you forget most of them once you wake up. But what if that weren’t such a good idea? What if it unleashed something horrific? That was a “what if” question that’s been on my mind ever since.

Annika, you come from the film industry and have been part of around forty film productions – and have died more than ten times in the process.

Annika: Yes, but quite often I was just tortured. Sometimes I get that mixed up myself. I think I’ve actually died twelve times. The thirteenth time would have to be something special.

What else motivated you to switch from film to books?

Annika: Actually, film is what got me into writing. I always wanted to be an actress; I landed my first role in a low-budget horror film and I never really got out of it. It was fun too. But in those low-budget productions, while the ideas were often strong, the storytelling and character development increasingly bothered me.

Do you have any idea why horror in books struggles so much in Germany – even though it’s very successful here in the film and TV series sector?

Sebastian: I think that also has to do with what kind of experience you have and what you’ve tried. In the crime and suspense genres, we’ve long let the Americans, the British and later the Scandinavians take the lead, thereby reinforcing the prejudice that we Germans can’t do it. We’ve had to fight against that for a long time. By the way, streaming services have contributed a great deal to the fact that we no longer have to hide; the “Berlin Thriller,” for example, is currently causing a stir worldwide. When it comes to horror, we’ve also left the field to masters like Stephen King – we simply don’t have a strong tradition in this area. But you have to try out an incredible number of things over and over again. We now have an idea we like, we’ve brought it to life and now we’re curious to see what happens.

Sebastian, this isn’t your first writing collaboration. There’s also the “Auris” series, where you developed the idea and Vincent Kliesch wrote it. What kind of self-image of authorship lies behind that?

Sebastian: I actually rarely reflect on myself as an author because I always start with the story, with the idea. I don’t care at all whether an idea fits my brand as an author or not; if something fascinates me so much that I want to spend a year of my life on it, then: Go for it. That could be a comedy like “Der erste letzte Tag,” “Elternabend” or “Horror Date.”

With Auris, it went like this: I had an idea: a phonetic investigator who can analyse voices and tell from a voice whether someone is depressed. That’s perfect for a radio play. Then Vincent said he’d like to write a book about it, and of course I said: sure. I wouldn’t have had time to write the book myself. With horror, I knew that while I enjoy reading and watching it, I don’t feel quite confident enough to write it. I thought I’d probably never bring this idea with the dreams to life. Then I met Annika and thought: This is a perfect fit. Otherwise, this idea would never have seen the light of day. I don’t see myself as an author, but as a storyteller – and for me, the story is always at the centre.

But you base that on the idea, not on a strategy. In the US, there are real writing factories – James Patterson and so on. Isn’t that a strategic move?

Sebastian: No. It would be presumptuous to think you could just step into a genre and conquer it overnight. And hardly anyone at the publishers is looking for horror anyway. If that were the strategy, we probably would have written a New Romance or Dark Romance instead – something so hot right now that entire trade-fair halls are being opened for it. But we haven’t had the idea for that yet.

On the topic of marketing: The website for your book doesn’t start with a cookie banner, but with a warning about strobe effects – almost like going to the movies. There’s a trailer, a social media campaign, merchandise, a giveaway. Is the book just one part of a larger creative universe – or the most important part?

Annika: Of course, the book is the most important thing for now. While writing, the focus was exclusively on the story; everything else was put on the back burner. I think merchandise and all that stuff comes out of the story itself. Once the book is finished, you automatically get creative again and think: How cool are the motifs we have in the book, and how can we bring them to life further? Personally, I like connecting with a motif visually as well, whether it’s a T-shirt or a bag. My mom, for example, crocheted me a Demogorgon from “Stranger Things”—things like that are nice too, right? That’s a process that emerges afterward, especially in a very visual genre like horror.

Sebastian, is that a different kind of marketing for a book like this?

Sebastian: For me, the story is the main focus here too. At some point, I asked myself: Why should my storytelling take place exclusively between the book’s covers? I use every opportunity to tell a story. A reading, for example, is essentially a promotional and sales event for the book, but who’s going to pay for it if they’re not getting anything extra out of it? That’s why we’re doing the “deepest reading in the world” – 700 metres underground. If we make a trailer, then please make one that’s never been done before. For me, the book is like a nail I have to hammer into the wall; it has to be driven in deep and stay put. Then you can hang a picture on it, and then others will come and make an ever larger picture out of it. But it all starts with the book. Whether it can be adapted into a film or not – I don’t care about that at all while I’m writing.

Sebastian, you have a strong author brand, very successful books and a wide reach on social media – that naturally helps compared to other authors who also have a good story.

Sebastian: Yeah, it’s a bit of a chicken-and-egg problem. My very first book came out in 2006 with a print run of 2,500 copies and zero euros spent on marketing. No autograph cards, not a single reading, nothing. It was trial and error with a tiny print run – basically doomed to fail. For my second book, I threw a big launch party. At the first reading for “Amokspiel” – which was number 15 on the bestseller list at the time – five people showed up, and three of them worked at the bookstore.

When it comes to internationalisation in the audiobook sector, people quickly think of the use of synthetic voices. In the book, the endpaper reads: “Author’s Guarantee: This book was written without artificial intelligence.” How much longer will that still be seen as a mark of quality

Annika: I hope it will remain a mark of quality for a long time to come, and I think you’ll be able to tell the difference in the writing. There are already some people who use AI to churn out self-published titles every week. But I’m absolutely convinced that you can tell the difference. And it’s kind of sad, too: If you want to write, the writing process itself is exactly what you want to do. It’s like if you want to be an actor, you want to perform the role yourself. For me, that’s incompatible with AI.

I find it difficult to distinguish where the use of AI begins and ends. Is the spell check in Word already AI? So do you mean the ban applies to the writing process?

Annika: Yes, to the writing process. When it comes to initial research, I don’t find AI fundamentally problematic, though you still have to double-check things carefully because not everything is always correct. But when it comes to creativity and the rest of the process, that’s a no-go for me.

I imagine you could licence your favourite audiobook narrator – or buy ideas from you and have an AI put them into words. Would that be interesting because it’s less work – or would it spoil the fun of writing?

Sebastian: I think that need is overestimated. In the nineties, interactive TV was touted – you could choose the ending, vote on how the story continues. Netflix has now discontinued its latest attempt at this because the majority of people want to be served a good story. They don’t feel like working in their free time too. And people want to communicate about something. No one would say, “I’m going to watch the World Cup final in two weeks and generate an alternative ending for myself.” We let something be presented to us, and the next day we meet up with people and discuss it. That’s going to become increasingly important.

Last question: You’re experts at building suspense. What still gives you the creeps?

Annika: Actually, everything gives me the creeps. I’m a worst-case-scenario thinker. I always stick to the rules because I really think: If something happens to me now, it’s my own fault. If someone tells me, “Don’t go that way, it’s dangerous,” then I definitely won’t go there. Instead, I think about what might be waiting for me there. I’m actually afraid of a lot of things.

Sebastian: If you don’t feel fear yourself, you can’t really make that spark jump to someone else – whether it’s positive or negative. For me, unexplained noises in the dark are enough. I live in an old house where things are always creaking and banging somewhere. And when I know I’m all alone and suddenly hear the toilet flushing above me – that’s a classic example – I say, “That’s enough.” Then I go check to see if maybe someone is sitting on the toilet after all

The interview was conducted by Albrecht Mangler and Daniel Lenz.