A New Year Reflection: What Vikings, Zeppelins, and 40 Years of Medical Writing Taught Me About Questioning What We Know

As we start a new year, I've been thinking about how often we accept things as true simply because that's what we've always believed.

Let me share a few stories that have stuck with me and what they have to do with medical writing, AI, and the future we're building.

The Smoking Room on the Hindenburg

Years ago, I visited Flughafen Friedrichshafen, one of the main zeppelin ports in Germany, for the first time. They've rebuilt the cabin from the Hindenburg (the famous zeppelin that crashed and burned in New Jersey) and you can actually have dinner there using the original menus.

Fascinating place. But here's what struck me most: The Hindenburg had a smoking room.

Think about that for a moment. You're sitting under a giant balloon filled with hydrogen (the most explosive, flammable substance known to mankind) and someone decided: "You know what we need? A smoking room."

When I learned this, my first reaction was disbelief. But then I realized: cultural norms can sometimes lead us to make decisions that seem completely illogical in hindsight. At the time, smoking was so ingrained in society that the idea of not having a smoking room was probably more unthinkable than the safety risk it posed.

Vikings Never Wore Horned Helmets

Here's another one: When you think of Vikings, what's the first image that comes to mind? Horned helmets, right?

Except Vikings never actually wore horned helmets. That image comes from 19th-century romanticism and opera costumes, not historical fact. But the myth is so deeply embedded in our collective imagination that it's nearly impossible to dislodge. We "know" what Vikings looked like, except we don't.

What Our Eyes Tell Us vs. What We Know

Does the sun go around the Earth, or does the Earth go around the sun?

We all accept that the Earth goes around the sun because brilliant scientists proved it centuries ago. But what do our eyes show us every single day? The sun is clearly going around the world.

Here's another demonstration: Draw two parallel lines of exactly the same length. Now add arrow tails (one set pointing outward, one set pointing inward). Your brain will immediately perceive one line as longer than the other, even though you just drew them the same length and you know they're identical.

The Müller-Lyer Illusion

You can measure them. You can prove they're the same. But your brain will still insist one is longer.

To me, that's a classic case of how the brain interprets things the way it wants, even when you know it can't possibly be true.

What This Has to Do with Medical Writing

Over the years, I've learned that our field has similar assumptions (things we accept as true because "that's how it's always been done"). When I think on my career, I remember days (entire weeks) spent in my office going through computer printouts. Line by line. Page by page. Cross-checking data manually because that was the only way to do it. If I'm honest, I would probably get six or seven years of my life back if I could have avoided that work.

But here's the thing: at the time, we didn't question it. That's what the work required. Just like the Hindenburg needed a smoking room and Vikings wore horned helmets.

The Time to Be a Medical Writer

If I could choose any time to be a medical writer, I would want to be a starting medical writer now so I could use AI tools like TriloDocs to make my life easier and more interesting. Not because AI makes us obsolete, but because it eliminates the manual work that never required human judgment in the first place. All those days spent going through computer printouts? All of that would be saved with TriloDocs. That time could instead be spent on what medical writers actually do best, and that includes clinical interpretation, strategic thinking, understanding what data means for patients.

Questioning What We Accept

The lesson from smoking rooms, Viking helmets, and optical illusions is simple: just because something seems obviously true doesn't mean it is.

And just because we've always done something a certain way doesn't mean it's the best way (or even a sensible way).As we begin 2026, the conversations I've had with medical writers show a willingness to question assumptions:

• Should medical writers spend weeks manually processing data?

• Is speed the most important thing AI should deliver?

• Is the future of medical writing about automation, or about enhancing human expertise?

The doctors I spoke with this year reminded me of what matters: accuracy, transparency, trust. None of this black box, no hallucinations, none of that kind of business. What they valued most was something an experienced medical writer once told me: it provides peace of mind that the decisions I made reflect best practice.

Welcome to 2026

The Vikings never wore horned helmets. The sun doesn't orbit the Earth. And medical writers have better ways to spend their time than going through printouts for years. Sometimes the most obvious "truths" are the ones most worth questioning.

Here's to building a future in 2026 that's based on what's actually true, not just what we've always believed.

Happy New Year to everyone in our community.

—Barry

Dr. Barry Drees is the Founder and Advisor at TriloDocs, former President of the European Medical Writers Association (EMWA), and has spent 40 years in medical writing watching the field evolve from hand-constructed tables to AI-enhanced documentation.