How to Tell Better Stories: This Unconventional Street Sign Holds a Clue
"YO! Slow Down!"
That's a common message we get from street signs. Just think about how many different signs effectively tell us: YO! SLOW DOWN! Of course, they don't usually say that exact phrase. Mostly, they tell us the speed limit.
In my parents' neighborhood, the speed limit is 25 miles per hour. (That's just over 15 kilometers per hour, for my friends living in Pretty Much Everywhere Else In The World But Where I Live). Since that's the speed limit near my parents' home, naturally, you see sign after sign saying "SPEED LIMIT: 25 MPH."
YO! SLOW DOWN!
But do we notice? Do we care? Even if it helps us stay safe (to say nothing of others), do we change? Rarely. As my friend Margo Aaron like to say, it's hard to get people to do things in their own best interests. Mostly, the people who know (or think they know) what's in our best interests become too preachy, too demanding, too instructional. It's obvious to them what we should do. They've walked the path from where we are to where they want us to be. Once there, they shout back to us:
YO! EAT HEALTHY!
YO! WORK OUT!
YO! SLEEP RIGHT!
YO! OPTIMIZE YOUR BLOG POSTS FOR GOOGLE SEARCH USING THIS PROPRIETARY METHOD I CREATED AND WILL SELL YOU FOR THE LOW-LOW PRICE OF SIX-MILLION DOLLARS!
You get the idea. Sometimes, there's an agenda. But all of the times, there's just not enough attention paid by the communicator to what really sparks action in others. They also seem to forget that any given message has to go out into a world full of pre-existing context. If you post a street sign, the context is that others will have seen this same sign a million times before, for years on end, and probably ignore this NEW sign you are so convinced matters.
And so, there I go again, blowing past the sign at well over the speed limit. (You're not a cop, right? You know you have to tell me if you're a cop. Are you a cop?)
Everywhere we go, we have a form of "banner blindness" (the phrase used to describe how internet users have learned to ignore banner ads). But we now have it across mediums, affecting way more than just banner ads. We see enough of something enough times, we learn to ignore it.
What can be done? What can we do to ensure our work actually resonates -- especially when others are probably competing with us and adding to the endless noise? Simple.
We can tell a better story.
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When I say "tell a better story," some people (not you -- never you) think I mean narrative. They think about sweeping tales involving multiple characters and moments of conflict. At very least, they think about anecdotes pulled from the basic details of the day. That's how some people (not you -- never you) think about "story."
Some even scoff. I shouldn't need to tell you about a little kid who feels sad. These are the facts. That is the science. I don't need to create a character you can follow.
They miss the point. Telling a better story isn't about sharing a narrative. When I say "story," the story I'm referring to is the one playing out in someone else's mind. It's their worldview, their belief system, the way they take in all the details swirling around them and synthesize it into meaning. Each and every thing they encounter -- especially the things they notice -- comes with a story. A story they tell themselves.
You don't need to tell a grand narrative about a moment you almost crashed your car, full of sensational details and emotional turmoil, in order to change the story playing in someone's mind about safe driving. Instead, you might do something like this:
"Hi, is this Jay's Right Foot? This is Jay's Brain, father of two. A three-year-old girl who already understands how to manipulate Daddy into getting what she wants in life -- into which Daddy gleefully plays in exchange for payment in kisses -- and also the most hilarious, happy, and handsome of little boys who shows affection by aggressively attacking Daddy's nose with his open, drooly mouth. I believe, Mr. Foot, you are familiar with the toddler as she often sits on you when she doesn't want you to walk away. Yes! Her! Yes, she is impossibly cute, you're right. No, I don't think we should tell our friends she's cuter than their kids, but thanks for the suggestion. Anyway, I just wanted to speak to you, Mr. Foot, to make a small request, if I may?
"YO! SLOW DOWN!"
In six words, a new story played out in my head. I not only noticed it (as did my dog Nocci, apparently), I absorbed it. Instantly, in my mind, the story of my children played out. Sure, I probably only overtly thought a few short things, nearly instantly, "Aria. Avery. Love 'em. Other parents. Their kids. Slow down." But behind all that overt thinking, an entire story started playing out in my head: the details of my experiences with my own kids, the emotions I feel, the very purpose of slowing down, the responsibility I have when I get behind the wheel of a car. It all changed.
Suddenly, a sharp bend up in the road ahead wasn't just a sharp bend. It was a blind spot, and who knows if an adorable little girl who gets her way with her Daddy by offering payment in kisses is playing just around that corner? What if a father was too busy getting his nose devoured by his hilarious, happy, and handsome little boy to be mindful of where he was walking in the road ... and I hit them???
YO!
I GOTTA SLOW DOWN!
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Our work is about action. We say "marketing" all the time without thinking about what that even is. Marketing is NOT about being seen. Marketing is about sparking action.
If we want to spark action in others, we have to play into the stories they tell themselves in their minds. THAT is what it means to "tell a better story."
Maybe I don't want to eat healthy just to eat healthy. Maybe it's because my family history is fraught with health issues thanks in part to unhealthy eating, and I want more time with my wife and kids.
Maybe I don't want to work out just to work out. Maybe it's because I want to play on the floor or run around outside with my children, my nephew, and my nieces ... and walk away without being exhausted or feeling brittle.
Maybe I don't want to sleep right just to sleep right. Maybe it's because I'm insanely driven in my work and need to bring forth the best version of myself more consistently. (Also, maybe I want to sleep right because I HAVEN'T DONE THAT IN MONTHS.)
It doesn't need to be about kids. But it does need to be a better story.
Not "a narrative." Not "an anecdote." Not necessarily. That can be how you communicate. It's how I do. But more so, this is about speaking to the story playing out in someone else's mind. Acknowledge it. Match it. Amplify it. Lead it somewhere positive.
When our work matches their story, they act. Said another way: we resonate with them.
In physics, resonance happens when one system matches the natural frequency of another, thus amplifying it. I pushed you on the swing at the exact moment you were about to move forward. I was able to match your natural frequency, so the force I applied amplified you the most it possibly could.
In our work, resonance happens when we are able to tap into the story which is playing out in the minds of those we want to reach. That is their own version of their "natural frequency." Are we on the same wavelength? Do we hit home and speak to their soul? Are they dads like me? Marketers? Entrepreneurs? Artisanal book binders? Stressed-out city dwellers seeking nature?
What is THEIR natural frequency -- the personal, emotional reasons they care about something? What is the story they tell themselves right now about whatever it is you're speaking to?
Match that frequency. Deliver your helpful push. Amplify them.
THAT is the job of resonance. It's about action.
And if you're not sure where to start that journey, a suggestion:
Tell a better story.
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