Renewed? I Didn’t Even Know It Aired: TV’s Promotion Problem in the Post-Peak Era

There was a time (really, not that long ago) when the launch of a new TV show felt like an event. Network publicists would reach out weeks in advance. 

Cast interviews would flood your inbox. Critics would screen the first few episodes, social media would light up, and by premiere day, you knew something was happening.

Now? I’ve seen shows quietly get renewed for a second or even third season before I’ve ever heard of them. That used to be unheard of. And I say that as someone whose literal job is to know what’s on TV.

What happened? Peak TV died, and with it, the infrastructure that used to support show launches. 

Studios slashed in-house publicity teams and handed the reins to external agencies — some of which are entertainment-specific, but many of which treat shows like a generic product to move. 

And no matter how good they are at marketing, there’s a critical difference between someone who has skin in the game and someone who doesn’t.

You can feel it. You see it in the emails that sound more like a sales pitch than a conversation.

You see it in the missed screener links, the copy-paste press releases, the lack of engagement, the total absence of urgency. Even the outlets that want to support a show are sometimes flying blind.

And don’t even get me started on the billboard obsession. Studios are still spending serious money on giant promo displays in Los Angeles, the one place that least needs them. 

If you’re in the industry, you’re not watching a show because you saw a billboard on Sunset. You’re watching it because someone you trust told you it was worth your time. 

If you’re an everyday viewer outside of LA, you probably never even knew it existed.

We’re in a moment where television needs more support, not less.

Production in LA is down double digits. Viewership is fractured. Audiences are overwhelmed. And instead of investing in visibility and discovery, studios are pulling back. It’s baffling. Truly.

The worst part? The disconnect between what the industry hypes and what viewers actually care about is getting wider. Hacks is everywhere. Critics love it. The cast wins awards. And yet, I don’t know a single person who watches it. 

I’ve tried several times myself and just couldn’t connect. But somehow, it remains an industry darling and keeps getting covered like a must-watch cultural staple. Is it good? Maybe. Is it popular? I have no idea. 

And that’s the problem. We’ve stopped measuring visibility in audience connection. We’ve replaced genuine buzz with echo chamber noise.

And here’s the kicker: I’ve gone looking for proof of just how broken this has become. I’ve messaged friends about new seasons of shows I never even knew existed. 

But now I can’t find those messages because I can’t remember the names of shows I never knew existed. That’s how forgettable TV can be when there’s no one behind the curtain making sure we actually see it.

And it’s not just about new TV either. Classic shows are being resurrected quietly on streaming platforms with zero fanfare. I learned that Knots Landing — one of my all-time favorites — was available on Plex and later Prime Video only because I’m in social media groups devoted to Knots Landing. 

These are fans who have been begging for years to see the show again, and when it finally lands on streaming, you’d think someone might, I don’t know, announce it? But no. Nothing. 

Just another silent upload dropped into the algorithm void. These people are passionate. They’re vocal. And they’re completely ignored.

It’s not about wanting more content. It’s about giving the content we do have a chance to be seen.

And it’s not just about the shows themselves — what’s missing is the entire ecosystem around them. Upfronts used to be a major industry event. 

We waited on pins and needles to see which shows were getting picked up, and more importantly, what they looked like. New show trailers were like Christmas morning for TV lovers. 

Now? ABC barely has a single scripted show on the launchpad outside of 9-1-1: Nashville.

The TCA press events — another huge source of early access and insight — have been canceled two times in a row. And even though I was never officially accepted to their little party, some networks would still reach out and share the wealth, inviting outside critics to participate. 

That’s where we’d get all kinds of juicy, meaningful information about upcoming programming. That access mattered, especially for critics and editors not based in New York or Los Angeles.

Sure, some of that disappeared because a few crass critics started posting out-of-context quotes on social media for clout. But that’s the exception, not the rule. Most of us showed up to do the job right. 

We took it seriously. And without these access points, the gap between the audience and the content just keeps growing wider. Publicity isn’t a luxury. It’s not a garnish. It’s the path between the screen and the audience.

TV doesn’t need more shows right now. It needs people who care enough to make us care.

Until that happens, get ready to keep hearing this one from critics, viewers, and editors alike:

“Renewed? I didn’t even know it aired.”

We’re not a content farm — just people who love TV.
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