If your marketing plan includes the word viral, it’s not a plan—it’s a prayer.

We all love the idea of the big breakout. The post everyone shares. The campaign that suddenly takes on a life of its own. But “going viral” isn’t a strategy. It’s what happens when timing, luck, and algorithms briefly decide to cooperate.

And when that happens, it almost never means what people think it means.

Why We Keep Chasing It

Every few years, a brand makes lightning strike—Dollar Shave Club, the Ice Bucket Challenge, Barbie pink everything. They make it look easy. It’s tempting to think we can just copy the formula and get the same result.

The problem is, there isn’t a formula. There’s only context. Dollar Shave Club wasn’t built on a funny video; it was built on a solid business model that the video happened to accelerate. The Ice Bucket Challenge worked because it made participation simple and personal. “Barbiecore” wasn’t a campaign—it was decades of cultural groundwork paying off at exactly the right time.

When we chase viral moments, we’re chasing effects, not causes. We see the explosion but not the fuse.

The Real Trap

Marketers have a built-in bias: we study what succeeds, not what fails. That’s survival bias. Every time something goes viral, hundreds of similar attempts quietly disappear.

But because we only remember the survivor, we tell ourselves it’s repeatable. It’s not. The variables—timing, tone, algorithm changes, audience mood—shift too quickly. You can’t schedule serendipity.

The irony is that most “viral” content wouldn’t survive a standard brand review meeting. It’s too weird, too raw, too fast. By the time the approvals are done, the moment’s gone.

Here’s the uncomfortable truth: the platforms don’t reward strategy; they reward reactions. Outrage, humor, novelty—anything that gets people to stop scrolling.

That’s fine if you’re an influencer. Not great if you’re a brand with a long-term story to tell. Algorithms optimize for attention, not alignment. They want engagement, not equity.

When something “blows up,” it doesn’t mean your brand connected—it means the platform got what it wanted: activity. The algorithm is a rented stage, not a relationship.

What Happens After the Spike, then?

Even the lucky ones struggle with what comes next. Viral moments rarely build anything lasting. They drive awareness, but not necessarily loyalty. People remember the moment, not the message.

McDonald’s had its Grimace Shake moment. Stanley had the pastel tumbler frenzy. Both fun, both fleeting. Attention doesn’t equal attachment. When the novelty fades, what’s left is whether the brand still matters.

Most spikes look good on charts but disappear in the next quarter’s report.

The brands that endure aren’t chasing the next big wave—they’re building steady current.

Consistency outperforms chaos every time. Clear story, consistent tone, repeatable message. That’s how trust compounds. That’s how marketing actually works.

Apple, Patagonia, LEGO, Chick-fil-A—none of them depend on “viral.” They depend on people recognizing something familiar and believing it again. Their messages don’t change with the trend cycle because they’re built on something deeper than trend.

A Simpler Formula

If you want a formula, it’s this:

• – Clarity beats clever.
• – Consistency beats novelty.
• – Credibility beats virality.

The irony is that most viral campaigns only work because they reinforce an existing story. Old Spice didn’t suddenly become confident overnight—it exaggerated the confidence it already owned. Barbie didn’t reinvent itself; it leaned into nostalgia with self-awareness.

Virality isn’t the goal. It’s a byproduct of clarity meeting momentum. Virality is luck that looks like genius. Strategy is genius that doesn’t need luck.

So stop trying to make something “go viral.” Make something people actually care about. Then say it clearly. Then say it again.

Because when the noise dies down, what’s left isn’t who went viral. It’s who stayed relevant.