by Ron Ploof | Oct 24, 2016 | Business Storytelling
Most business success stories sound like the worst fairytale ever:
Once upon a time, someone had a problem.
Then they found our product and lived happily ever after.
This isn’t a success story. It’s a suck-cess story.
Suck-cess stories lack drama and consequence. They’re neat little packages of unremarkable facts topped with a cute bow. The problem with suck-cess stories is that life doesn’t work that way. Everything including products and services has flaws.
The StoryHow Institute’s mantra is that a story is the result of people pursuing what they want. Business storytellers understand that when humans pursue their wants, things get messy. So, rather than shying away from such imperfections like marketers, storytellers seek them out by asking messy questions:
- What are the implications of not solving the problem?
- Will solving this problem create another one?
- What risks are associated with someone buying our product? Internal politics? External perceptions? Personal or professional repercussions?
The answers to such questions form the real backbone of any success story. They’re the details that help listeners see themselves in the story. But for some reason, marketers feel compelled to streamline their success stories. They cram their obsequious copy with silly little terms. My favorite? “Seamless.”
- Our seamless business process.
- Our seamless software interface.
- Our products integrate seamlessly with your (fill-in-the-blank).
Folks, there’s no such thing as a seamless process. Everything has flaws. Flaws make stories interesting. Our attention is drawn to them. And when something is presented without flaws, our natural curiosities drive us to look for them.
So, it begs the question. if flaws are normal, why do marketers compulsively gloss over them? The answer can be described in one word. Trust. Marketers don’t trust their audiences. They lack faith in their listener’s ability to draw conclusions. They believe that any flaw (or seam) will result in a lost sale. Therefore, marketers continue their foolish attempts to lead lemming-like audiences off predetermined cliffs by spinning, obscuring or tap dancing around their seams.
The next time you’re asked to write a success story, think like a storyteller. Embrace the messiness. Describe how your customer struggled to finally choose your product. Have faith in your audience’s ability to deal with life’s imperfections, because it’s what they do it every day.
Oh, and one more thing. Unless you’re a sailmaker, tailor, or seamstress, you probably shouldn’t be using “seamless” in your marketing copy.
Photo Credit: Harris & Ewing, photographer. “Betsy Ross of the Capitol.” Washington, D.C. [March 2, 1937] Image. Retrieved from the Library of Congress, https://www.loc.gov/item/hec2009008972/.
by Ron Ploof | Oct 17, 2016 | Business Storytelling
The Twist (StoryHow PitchDeck Card #27) is a powerful storytelling device that leads an audience down one path before diverting them to an unexpected one. When used properly, twists make stories enjoyable, memorable, and in some cases, humorous.
Many years ago, my wife and I bought a house with a big backyard. The property’s only downside was its location on a busy street. So, to keep our young children from wandering into the dangers of the front yard, we decided to build a fence.
I remember how excited I was when I first saw the completed fence. It was perfect…well almost. The gate between the backyard and the driveway could only open partially because the level gate swung into the upwardly sloping ground. And while the partial opening was wide enough for a person to fit through, things like my lawnmower and wheelbarrow would remain forever trapped in the backyard if it wasn’t fixed.
I called the fence company. Evidently, the installer had relayed the information already, because the woman who answered the phone seemed ready for my call. She chose to take a defensive position, explaining that the company didn’t know how to solve the problem. So, I offered a solution, “What if we make the gate swing the other way?” By doing so, the gate would swing away from the slope instead of into it, thus allowing its full range of motion.
The simplicity of my solution seemed to catch her off guard. She bumbled her way through some weak reasons why it wouldn’t work before finally acquiescing. That’s when she explained that due to their busy schedule, she wouldn’t be able to send someone for a few weeks.
Weeks, Really? We had just paid this company a lot of money to put up this fence and they couldn’t come out to fix it for weeks?
I fumed as I recalled a similar experience with another contractor. I remembered how exuberantly motivated he was before I paid him, yet totally unavailable afterward. It took me months to get him to return and I was beginning to believe that I’d be doing the same thing with this company. But, that’s when I thought of an idea.
I mustered my sweetest-sounding voice and said, “I totally understand. We’re all busy. Please send somebody when you can.”
“Umm…thank you for your understanding,” she said hesitantly, before proposing some arbitrary date in the far distant future that she probably had no intention of honoring.
“That sounds great,” I said. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Is there anything else I can help you with?”
“Nope. You’ve been great. Oh, wait! There is one small thing. I canceled the check that my wife gave to your installer.”
The telephone line fell silent as she realized that I’d learned how to play her game.
“Oh, look at that,” she said. “You aren’t going to believe this, Mr. Ploof. But a slot just opened for tomorrow.”
Spin is a technique that traditional marketers use to transform negative situations into positive ones. It’s one of the weaker communications devices because it’s motivated by selfishness–seeking to benefit the teller more than the listener. Twists, on the other hand, are motivated by generosity. They’re little gifts that storytellers give to their audiences to make stories more enjoyable and memorable.
Storytellers setup twists through shared experiences. For example, the first part of our fence story was designed to connect with those who’ve had similar problems with contractors. In addition, those who’ve never experienced that exact situation can still relate to a general feeling of being caught between a proverbial rock and a hard place. Once storytellers establish the shared experience, it’s easy for listeners’ preconceived notions to lead them down a path of false expectations. It is at this moment, just when the listener says, “Oh, I know where this story is going,” that the storyteller throws a twist at them.
The next time you need to convey a message, think about how you might draw the audience into your story through a shared experience. Encourage their preconceived notions to lead them down a decoy path. Then, just as they think that they know what happens next, hit ’em with a twist. As long as the motivation behind the deception is to benefit the audience as opposed to yourself, you’ll not only be able to make your point effectively, but the audience will enjoy the process.
Storytellers give the gift of twists.
Photo Credit: Lee, Russell, photographer. Great Falls, Montana. Anaconda Wire and Cable Company. Spiral twisted copper core for the manufacture of hollow conductor cable. Sept, 1942. Image. Retrieved from the Library of Congress, https://www.loc.gov/item/owi2001011358/PP/
by Ron Ploof | Oct 10, 2016 | Business Storytelling
My mom knows nothing about football, but she knows about a former lineman for the LA Rams. She knows that Rosie Greer, a Pro Bowl member of the “Fearsome Foursome” likes needlepoint. The fact that she has committed this knowledge to memory is an example of narrative facts that enter the story zone.
Earlier this year, we learned how storytellers use story statements to open questions inside a listener’s mind. Today, we’re going to discuss a special type of story statement, one that messes with the listener’s prior knowledge.
Take a look at the following narrative statements.
Jack is five years old.
Elizabeth is ninety-five years old.
On the surface, these statements appear to deliver simple facts such as name, age, and gender. But, underneath, they deliver deeper meaning because of the listener’s prior knowledge of 5-year-olds and ninety-five-year-olds. As long as these facts align with the prior knowledge, nothing special happens. But when they misalign, narratives begin to enter the story zone. Consider the following:
Five-year-old Jack needs a heart transplant.
Ninety-five-year-old Elizabeth just finished her first marathon.
Story statements give listeners facts to chew on instead of mindlessly digesting them whole. In these instances, we’ve transformed simple narrative facts into story statements because they conflict with preconceived notions. Five-year-olds are supposed to be healthy and ninety-five-year-olds aren’t supposed to be running marathons. As a result, listeners are forced to rectify the disparity within their own minds, which in turn, makes the facts interesting and memorable.
Therefore, the next time you must deliver fact upon fact, find something that conflicts with the audience’s default understanding of the situation, like:
- a young person with a serious health problem,
- a geriatric marathon runner,
- or a ferocious football player who loves needlepoint.
Give your listener’s something to chew on. Use story statements to pull your narratives into the story zone.
Photo Credit: The Tug of War. 1879. Image. Retrieved from the Library of Congress,
by Ron Ploof | Sep 26, 2016 | Business Storytelling
Last week, I came across a screaming little boy in a grocery store aisle. Although I didn’t know all of the details, it wasn’t hard to piece together that his Mom triggered the meltdown by refusing to buy him something. And so there he stood, defiantly proclaiming his dissatisfaction with alligator tears streaming down his reddened face.
Can you remember a time when you felt that way? A time when you wanted something so badly that it felt as if your body would burst? Perhaps, like the little boy, you were being denied a toy. Perhaps you felt embarrassment or regret as the result of a mistake? In each of these cases, you experienced internal conflict.
All stories have conflict, but most inexperienced storytellers mess it up through misinterpreting the following statement: “A story is about characters in conflict.” They take the advice too literally, defaulting to the colloquial story of a protagonist battling with an evil antagonist. In other words, they spend more time focussing on the events of the conflict instead of the actual source of it.
Internal conflicts are frequently more powerful than external conflicts. For example:
- A woman wants a moment with her family to last forever.
- A college student, far from home, longs to see his family.
- A proud old man refuses to ask a nursing aide to steady his shaky hand while he raises a glass of water to his thirsty lips.
All are forms of conflict that involve just one character.
Customers experience internal conflict all the time, but new business storytellers overlook them by focussing on the more apparent external versions:
- A manager that won’t release budget
- The valuable employee quits in the middle of a project, leaving the team vulnerable
- A competitor slaps your company with a patent infringement lawsuit
And while all of these external impediments offer great sources for conflict, don’t settle on one until you’ve had a chance to review internal conflicts, too.
- A prospect has the budget, but for some inexplicable reason refuses to spend it.
- A prospect decides to hire your company but fears the political ramifications of the choice.
- The contract must be signed today, but your customer believes that it’s bad luck to sign a contract while Venus is in retrograde.
Average storytellers find what their protagonist wants. Good storytellers determine the barriers to achieving that want. Great storytellers, however, examine all potential sources of conflict–from internal to external.
Photo Credit: Waiting. 1875. Image. Retrieved from the Library of Congress
by Ron Ploof | Sep 19, 2016 | Business Storytelling
Sometimes a story just doesn’t work. No matter how hard we try, it just doesn’t resonate with an audience. It falls flat and we feel deflated. The question, therefore, is: “What do we do with that feeling?”
The Discovery Channel’s, Deadliest Catch is a reality television show about crab fishing in the Bering Sea. It’s the story of brave crews that taunt nature’s elements to catch their legal quota of crab within a small “season.” Captains, using a combination of GPS technology and intuition, determine where to drop “strings” of 800-pound baited crab traps called “pots,” which lie on the ocean floor waiting for crabs to crawl into them. After several hours of “soaking,” the crab boats circle back and retrieved the pots.
The show’s producers use the first pot of each string as a dramatic plot point (StoryHow PitchDeck Card #19) for two reasons: its contents usually predicts the success of the string and therefore, it also sets the crew’s morale. If the pot is full of crab, the crew is elated and they don’t mind “grinding” for twenty-four hours to retrieve the packed crab pots. If the first pot is empty, though, morale plummets as the crew realizes that they must spend the next day pulling up empty pots. Empty pots pay nothing and mean more time on the dangerous Bering Sea.
Many similarities exist between crab fishing and business storytelling. Sometimes customers flock to our stories and sometimes they don’t. Since writing a story is hard work, it’s easy for our morale to wane, to question our choices, defend them to upper management, and perhaps even doubt our abilities.
It’s at times like these that we need to learn from the fishing crews of the Cornelia Marie, Northwestern, Time Bandit, and Wizard. Just because one particular presentation, blog post, podcast episode, or video doesn’t resonate with our audience, we can’t stop fishing. Just as crab boat crews re-bait and return their pots to the ocean floor, we must continue to punch those keyboards, speak into those microphones, and look into those video cameras. Just as the crab boat captains learn from each set-and-retrieve cycle, so must we. Our job is to learn something with each story we write so that we can apply it to our next story.
Storytelling is hard work. The trick is to keep on fishing. Great storytellers don’t give up.
Photo Credit:
Highsmith, Carol M, photographer. Employee cracks and steams crabs at Fisherman’s Grotto No. 9 at Fisherman’s Wharf, San Francisco, California. [Between 1980 and 2006] Image. Retrieved from the Library of Congress.
by Ron Ploof | Sep 12, 2016 | Business Storytelling
I’ve been reliving my childhood through watching old television programs on Netflix. With the push of a button, I can watch John Gage and Roy DeSoto save lives in Emergency!, Jim Rockford scam bad guys in The Rockford Files, and evil Cylons chase a ragtag fleet of humans in Battlestar Galactica. My retro-binge-watching habit has also taught me lessons in business storytelling.
Take Battlestar Galactica for example. Each episode opens with a preamble that consists of:
- Clips from the last episode
- Space scenes accompanied by a voiceover that describes the backstory
- Full credits for producers, directors, actors, etc…
The intro consumes four of the episode’s forty-nine minutes–eight percent of the show’s total running time!
While it’s easy to fast-forward through these annoyances today, it wasn’t back then, as the only way to watch the show was during its live broadcast. If you missed the network-determined timeslot, you missed the episode forever. 1970s television viewers were, in every sense of the word, a captive audience, and so the networks could afford sloppy storytelling.
Digital storage technologies have eliminated that luxury by freeing audiences from the tyranny of broadcast schedules. Time-shifting allows us to read, watch or listen to whatever we want, whenever we want, placing the burden upon the storyteller to create content that inhibits our spring-loaded thumbs from pressing well-worn fast forward buttons. Yet, for some inexplicable reason, corporate communicators still write Galactica-like preambles. If you don’t believe me, make a mental note of how many times you read the following opening lines:
- These days…
- We live in an age/era that…
- As more companies…
- In our ever-changing world…
- In (fill-in industry name) today…
- In today’s hectic world…
- With the advent of…
- With the explosion of…
- With the increase/decrease of…
If your company opens its stories like this, stop it. Just stop it!
Master storytellers know how to cut to the chase. They know how to pull audiences into a story instead of making them trudge through its clunky details. Ann Handley offers excellent advice on how to fix the Galactica-like preamble in her bestselling book, Everybody Writes.
At the beginning of a piece, many of us take too long to delve into the topic. We offer too much setup and background. In other words, we take a metaphorical running start on the page—before getting to the real starting point. It’s a great way to warm up to a topic, and I do it all the time. But in most cases I go back and erase the running start, covering my tracks completely and getting to the key point more directly.1
By lopping off the first paragraph, storytellers pull readers into their stories rather than making them slog through word-sludge in hopes of finding the point.
Eliminate Galactica-like preambles. Create great opening lines. Deliver backstory (StoryHow PitchDeck Card #30) only after you’ve set the hook (StoryHow PitchDeck Card #52). Pull your audience into the story immediately…
…or risk losing them forever.
References:
- Handley, Ann. Everybody Writes: Your Go-To Guide to Creating Ridiculously Good Content (p. 56). Wiley. Kindle Edition.
Photo Credit: Library of Congress
