A Product Only in My Home Away From Home
- Apr 1
- 5 min read
Updated: Apr 8
Written by DDL Smith, Author
DDL Smith is a British novelist known for ‘Detective Dion’ and the eco-horror novel ‘Decay’. His independently published novels have attained global reach with his ‘think like a publisher’ mentality.
Hej, har ni lokal öl? A phrase I've practiced and used many times in my travels. "Do you have any local beers?"
It's a simple question, but one that invites something new every time. Usually, it leads to a taste I can't get at home. Something scarce. Something unique. A specific flavor that carries the memory of an exact place.
This time, a quiet bar. Country music plays subtly in the background. A bottle lands on a bar mat. A yellow label, a yellow JB on its label, a pineapple IPA. It's a taste that doesn't feel like it exists in London, and from a brewery unheard of in the UK. Yet, it's my favorite so far, a pineapple IPA from Jämtlands Bryggeri.
It's a unique taste I can't get at home. It wasn't designed in a boardroom surrounded by suits asking how it can fill shelves in every city on Earth. It was crafted with clear passion. Designed for a specific location. For making memories within 17°C summers, and reminding you of those memories in -10°C winters.
Its scarcity worldwide is another reason why it's become so special to me.
Scarcity is a strength
In business, we're taught that everything should scale. Design a product that will work anywhere, optimize it for everywhere. Yet in doing so, we turn an origin story into corporate jargon to appeal to new customers. Some products are fine for scaling, I don't think about what phone charger to buy when I need a new one. Yet, I always forget them.
Convenience creates transactions, yet it rarely creates attachment. The things that stay with us aren't the ones we can pick up anywhere, anytime. They're the ones tied to a place, a moment, a specific version of ourselves. When something is easy to replace, it's easy to forget. When it isn't, it engraves in our memories like something bittersweet. It becomes something we return to because it means something.
I can walk into any shop in the UK and pick up a bottle of Rekorderlig or Kopparberg cider. They're recognizable. They're everywhere. Yet my memories of the product blur into one from everywhere that sells them. It doesn't make me think of the story behind the drink. It doesn't make me think of Sweden, no matter how many times "Skål" (Cheers) is printed on the label.
The difference is the story
This same idea shows up everywhere, including in the novels I create. Thousands of books are published every year. Most are technically good. Many are well-written. Yet, novels are a saturated market with hundreds of years of people writing stories. The stories that cut through the noise feel personal. They don't appeal to everyone, they resonate deeply with someone. And that usually comes down to where they're rooted.
The new Detective Dion, announced later this month, will take the detective to three different cities in Europe. Each city has its own characteristics and drives the story based on its environment. Each city becomes distinct. The conversations change. The pacing shifts. Even the decisions feel different depending on where the character stands.
Those places aren't interchangeable, and neither is the story because of it.
A novel is a product, the same as every other product for entertainment. Whether that be a drink, a toy, or music. Their best asset is the personal story within them. It creates or attaches to a memory specifically, which keeps your customers coming back over and over.
In the same way that one drink can take you straight back to a specific bar, a specific moment, a specific group of people, stories, when they're grounded in something real, do the same. They don't just exist. They stay with you.
Building local first
World markets can always seem like they're in decline. Like they're already too saturated, so it might feel impossible to make an entrance. Yet, there might be a gap you noticed within a local community or area, somewhere that might have been forgotten. Your idea would work here.
You've then been able to create an identity and loyalty that you can take with you. Yet, scaling shouldn't mean selling the same product further away. You've built a business model with a product that works in a certain location, but not every location is the same, so your product shouldn't be the same.
Take it from a startup I once worked for. Their goal was to bring people back out to restaurants after the pandemic by enticing people to try new places. Their app model worked perfectly in Berlin before coming to the UK. The app kept many independent locations open and helped them survive. However, the UK is a very different place. If we were to go out regularly, we'd find ourselves in a coffee shop or a sandwich bar at lunch to escape the office. It's much rarer for us to go out for meals. Even then, it would be food in a bar, which is usually chains instead of independent locations.
We had great success signing up independent cafés. Yet, we were discouraged from signing up more despite our own judgment as employees who had spent their lives in London. When walking around the city now, I barely see any stickers for their app in windows. Their business model did not adapt to their expansion, and it ultimately cost them global success.
The one thing you shouldn’t lose
Back to my love note about my favorite IPA. It has one unique thing that's personal to me, its memory. The taste isn't just unique, it's a product I now associate with my home away from home. It's a taste I remember before boarding a plane north. It's a memory of talking to friends with that green pineapple bottle logo in the background. It's become a product to look forward to, not because I can get it anywhere, but because I can't.
It's unique and tied to a special location.
The scarcity isn't a limitation, it's what keeps its value. The same way a story tied to a place feels different from one that could happen anywhere, or a product built for a specific community feels different from one designed for everyone. It keeps its identity. It keeps its meaning. Because when something is made for everywhere, it loses its origins.
The drink isn't just a drink. The story isn't just a story. The product isn't just something to sell. They all carry something with them, a place, a moment, a reason they exist in the first place. The best are crafted with a moment and a location in mind, not a generic blanket for everyone. Finding a unique selling point becomes much easier when a product is tailored to your audience.
And that's what keeps people coming back. Not because it's easy to find. But because it's worth returning to.
Read more from DDL Smith
DDL Smith, Author
DDL Smith is a London-based novelist whose cross-genre, contemporary fiction reflects issues and fears in modern society. His creative roots started from a young age with theatre and scriptwriting for online content. When transitioning to novels, his goal was to use marketing techniques to ‘think like a publisher’ while staying independent. A tactic that has his books available in book chains across the globe.
