The Back Story on Storytelling

Just in case you have been thrown into the deep end of the storytelling pool without your floaties, here’s some quick background (which has been grossly condensed, generalized, and simplified in the service of brevity).

“The United States has become a small room in which a single whisper is magnified thousands of times.” --Edward Bernays, “The Engineering of Consent,” 1947
“The United States has become a small room in which a single whisper is magnified thousands of times.”
–Edward Bernays

Back in ye olden days, humans entertained, taught, and maintained cultural norms through stories and oral histories. The audience and the storytellers were interchangeable (the audience of one story was the teller of the next) and the telling of stories was a communal and interactive activity.

While that process was never eradicated, it was greatly reduced by the onset of mass media—first through the printing press, then through radio and television. The 20th Century saw a dramatic rise in the ability of well-positioned individuals, corporations, and governments to talk to (or talk at) the public at large in a vector-based manner. Think of newspaper, radio, and TV ads—there was no form of audience interaction, yet they were able to ubiquitously permeate households during this time. For instance, if you bought commercial time during The Wonderful World of Disney (Sunday nights at 7:30!), a good portion of the American public would see your message.

The market for this kind of unidirectional messaging was kept restricted by the relative scarcity of opportunities and tremendous associated costs. Messaging was dominated by organizations with deep pockets.

"And the Internet has smashed the room to smithereens." DMcD
“And the Internet has smashed that room to smithereens.” – DMcD

This communications structure was accompanied by the rise of the public relations, publishing, marketing, and advertising industries. You could view these professionals as being like the priesthood—a group of people with specialized skills and training that served as a liaison between the mass public and a small, powerful group.

The development of the personal computer and the Internet exponentially increased the number and variety of communications outlets, as well as functionally eliminating the hard costs of creating and sharing information. This technological quake resulted in an explosion of content production, with the result that the competition for “mind share” became fiercely competitive. And as social media platforms proliferated, the audience had an increasingly central role in content production. It is no longer enough to provide good content; you have to provide content that makes the audience want to contribute, become emotionally vested, and integrated into the stories.

All of this created a drive to develop and package information, messages, and promotion in the most emotionally compelling way. Cynical information consumers no longer buy into the idea that buying a product will make them like the celebrity touting it; and in a globalized economy, consumers of all kinds have many options.

As a result, regular-old people and organizations have been driven to create brands that are replete with symbols, slogans, and values. What once was the province of large corporations is now the playground of anyone with a computer and wifi access.

In this sphere, an ever-widening range of people, organizations, and industries have adopted the storytelling strategy. In short, your competition is sharpening their storytelling skills. You should, too.

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Five benefits of a quest-oriented organization

The quest is central to a story, just as it should be to your organization. A clearly conceptualized quest will aid your content marketing in the following ways:

“I’m writing the Great American Novel.  What the hell does it look like I’m doing?”
“I’m writing the Great American Novel. What the hell does it look like I’m doing?”
  1.  A quest provides definition. In a chaotic and fast-paced world, defining and differentiating your organization can be a real challenge. A quest helps to encapsulate both what your organization does and, more importantly, why it does it.
  2.  Quests fuel engagement. Motivating sustained action is difficult, especially when there isn’t a large-scale vision for your audience to buy into. Whether it’s internally or externally, having an overt quest can help frame discussions, explain setbacks, and provide a shared lens through which to experience the world.
  3. Quests are an avenue of persuasion. If you’ve ever tried to change someone’s mind (whether a two-year-old or a 62-year-old), you’ve probably run into a reflexive human reaction: when faced with opposition, people cling all the more stubbornly to their beliefs. So start large: elucidating a quest that others can agree with provides common ground and a starting point for discussion, making it easier to build bridges, negotiate, or persuade.
  4. Quests drive intentional change. Organizations are always changing and evolving, but often they do so in a reactive manner.  Having a quest helps to guide that change based upon what you are trying to achieve, providing a “North Star” to help navigate the thousands of daily decisions that add up to the sum of the organization.
  5.  Quests can improve organizational mentality. Many groups look at themselves as individuals doing individual jobs that add up to the whole of the organization. Call it an assembly line mentality. If everyone does their allotted tasks, the final “product” will continue to be churned out.A quest-oriented mentality would use the metaphor of the body. Departments are individual organs fulfilling different tasks that all contribute to the health of the organism. So far, pretty similar. Here’s the difference: in this mindset, the organization’s quest is the blood. Its presence and quality affects how all of the organs function. And if some parts of the body are functioning without it … well, let’s just say you’re in trouble.

    With this perspective, a group’s quest is not the province of PR, marketing, sales, or advertising folks. Everyone’s job and mission is to maintain, improve, and otherwise contribute to the success of the quest, since that story is the symbolic “life’s blood” of the organization.

The stonecutter’s parable

A quest doesn’t have to be world-shaking or revolutionary to affect employee morale. For a quick example, let’s look at the stonecutter’s parable.

A man walks up to a stonecutter and asks what he’s doing. The stonecutter replies, “I’m busting up these damn rocks. What does it look like I’m doing?”

The man goes over to another stonecutter and asks him the same question. The second stonecutter looks up, smiles, and says, “I’m helping to build a beautiful cathedral.”

This second man’s mentality likely translated into greater productivity in the stonecutting arena. And where creativity, dedication, intelligence, and knowledge are integral parts of an organization’s success, the yield would be exponentially greater.


So take a moment and ask yourself: Can everyone in your organization clearly and accurately identify the group’s quest? (This includes your administrative staff, your IT people, and your accounting folks.)

 

Posted in Content, Nonprofit communications, Quest, Storytelling | Leave a comment

Seven things you can do today to improve your writing

"I can't remember the seventh one either. Isn't that weird?"
“For the life of me, I can’t remember the seventh one either. Isn’t that weird?”

1. Strip down to your BVDs. To everybody but your mother, your organization is just another unknown guitar player on the Venice Beach boardwalk, a Robert John Burck if you will.

Who? Exactly.

Burck was a “piss-poor, no-good” guitar-playing model who couldn’t busk enough change on a good day to buy a venti Frappuccino–until he got naked. Now, Burck—aka The Naked Cowboy—is a fixture in Times Square who has made a fortune with his trademarked Naked Cowboy franchise. Lesson: Find that one feature that separates you from the pack, and ride it till you shred the tires.

2. Hunt down and kill clichés. The cliché is a cunning quarry. It blends in with your creative copy, waiting silently for your reader to stumble upon it and then BAM! It bores them to tears. So be …

Dear God! Nobody move. There’s a cliché right behind us. Don’t panic. Just reach deep into your brain and pull out some creativity. No, the right side, you fool! Dig deeper! I know it’s in there. Good. Now, let’s pray to God this works.

… for your reader to stumble upon it and then BAM! It leaps straight into her brain, devouring any interest she may have had in reading further. So be vigilant. The story you save may be your own.

3. Help people feel big numbers. Employing the “to-the-moon-and-back” gimmick to explain a big number is like using Ken and Barbie dolls to demonstrate a passionate kiss. If you must drop a big number into your copy, drop it on the audience’s feet. Need to show them a trillion? Start with something they can grasp, like a second. If one million seconds equals 11-and-a-half days, how long is a billion seconds? 32 years. Which means a trillion seconds is 32,000 years. Brain cramp, right? That’s how you leave a mark with a number.

4. Sing your story. A well written story is a song. Whether it flows lyrically or marches forward with a staccato beat, a good story has a tempo that augments the message and enhances the reader’s experience. And it’s surprisingly easy to do. As you edit, read your copy out loud. If you don’t notice a natural cadence to the narration, try culling a few syllables—through word choice or word chopping—to make your copy more melodic.

5. Don’t forget to floss your copy. Even the best copy can get gummed up with jargon, acronyms, and legalese. To prevent unsightly copy-stain buildup, scour your copy vigorously. And be extra vigilant with the phrase “wide variety.” If you ever find it in your copy, hit “ctrl A” then “ctrl x.” That should clear up the problem right away.

6. Hit on one member of your audience. You wouldn’t try to hook up with every person at Tootsie’s Orchid Lounge, would you? Of course not. You want to focus all that charisma into a single charm-laser so you have a better chance of not going home alone. Same with writing. Envision who you are writing for—in detail—then hit that person with all the Cyrano you can muster.

7. Imagine that your new friend has to go to the bathroom. Really bad. Nobody ever complained about a speech being too short. The same goes for just about everything else you write. If you spend as much energy compressing your word count as you do finding fun phrases, you will have a more appreciative—and less squirmy—audience.

 

Posted in Audience, brevity, Cliches, Content, Empathy, Hooks, How to tell a story, Numbers, Pain, Singing, Storytelling | 1 Comment

Monsters Ink: How your audience’s inner monster can give your story legs

sewer7
“And it is made entirely of … Try to keep up with me, people! There’s still plenty left to see on the tour.”

Do you fist pump when your toilet flushes properly? Yeah, me neither. Unless you’re a drug dealer, a functioning toilet probably doesn’t change your life. You just expect it to work.

And therein lies the problem for municipal sewer authority PIOs.

Nobody cares that the sewage system infrastructure is doing its job. It’s when it isn’t that the conversation starts. And if the effluence hits the affluent, watch out! It’s emergency city council hearings and “the full story at 11” on channel 9.

I learned this last week in Napa where I was speaking to the California Association of Public Information Officials. During Q and A, the PIO for a municipal sewer authority asked, “What is the best way to inform our customers that our system has the lowest rate of incidents in the region and that we have never gone over budget?”

“There is no good way. Nobody cares. Much like a dependable toilet, you’re doing what people expect you to do.”

“But my boss wants me to get the word out and I’m having a very difficult time.”

“I’ll bet. Let me ask you a question. Have you ever seen the video of the North Carolina sewer monster? Because people care about the North Carolina sewer monster.”

The NCSM is a blob of wormy tentacles that actually moves when it senses danger. The video—which showed several of these critter living in the sewers of Raleigh, NC—got over 5 million hits on YouTube and was featured on ABC World News Tonight.

“Aligning your organization’s story with a popular story or video is a great way to grab people’s attention.”

To drive home the point, I summoned my best Lt. Aldo Raine impersonation and twanged, “If you want folks to hear the story you want to tell, you’re gonna have to start by telling them a story that they wanna hear. And, cousin’, the North Carolina sewer monster story is a-boomin’!”

I definitely crossed the line. You could hear jaws drop.

“My boss does not want us showing our customers videos of sewer monsters. He wants us to tell them about our incident-free system and sound budget management.”

“Let’s break it down,” I said, drawing two circles on the white board. “The big circle on the left represents everything you could possibly say about the sewer authority. The small circle on the right represents everything your customers want to hear about the sewer authority. You see that tiny spot where the two circles touch? That’s sewer monsters. And the only way you’re going to get information from your circle into their circle is through that tiny sewer-monster connection.”

More awkward silence. It was apparent that not everyone was ready to color outside the lines to get their story out. But I also saw a few people nodding, smiling, and taking notes. And while the day did not end with a “slow clap” send off, I knew there were some PIOs who were already thinking of ways to tell a better story.

On the way back to the airport, I wondered whether the sewer monster example was a good idea after all. But even though it was an off-the-cuff response, I still haven’t come up with anything better. So I’m asking you, how would you have answered the question?

Posted in Audience, Content, Hard truths, Hooks, Storytelling | 1 Comment

Dove Bomb

"I sure hope people don't think I'm gilding the lily."
“I sure hope people don’t think I’m gilding the lily.”

We asked a cynical old bastard to describe the viral video Real Dove Beauty Sketches to our forensic artist.

“What can you tell me about the video, sir?”

“This video was the biggest crock of sh— the biggest load of malarkey I’ve seen since Kony 2012.”

“How’s that?”

“People think they’re watching a video that celebrates a woman’s inner beauty. But the real message of the video is ‘you’re not as physically unattractive as you think you are, so just go on out there and keep being as physically beautiful as you can be.’”

“I’m going to need some more details.”

“Cool, I took notes. Take this one gal. When she’s looking at the two portraits of herself, she says ‘Chloe’s perception was so, so clearly different. Her picture looked like somebody I thought I would want to talk to and be friends with … like a happy, light, much younger, much brighter person.’

“So if I follow her logic, she is more inclined to ‘talk to’ and ‘be friends with’ someone who appears ‘much younger, much brighter.’ Wow. She’s not just judging the book by its cover. She’s taking age into account, too.

“Now, I’m the first to admit that it’s possible that I twisted the meaning of her words in my typically cynical way. So I watched the video again and took more notes. The blond in the turtle neck says, and I quote: ‘I should be more grateful of my natural beauty. It impacts the choices and the friends that we make, the jobs we apply for, how we treat our children. It impacts everything. It couldn’t be more critical to your happiness.’

“Your ‘natural beauty’ affects ‘how we treat our children’? Paging Steve Buscemi, Child Protective Services on line one.

“Look, this thing was a setup from the start. All of the women in it were physically attractive. The artist was in on the joke, and the piece was produced and edited explicitly to tweak our tear glands. What amazes me is that millions of people fell for it.”

“So what lessons can we learn from this experience?”

“Good question. First, gimmicks sell. As manipulative as it was, the premise of the ‘unbiased’ forensic artist was brilliant. Second, amateur-looking video is hot—even slick, expensive ‘amateur’ videos like this one. It makes the viewer feel closer to the action. And third … perception is reality.”

 

Posted in Audience, Content, Emotion, Marketing, Perception is reality, Storytelling, Video | Leave a comment

West Side Storycide

"The whole time? I was wearing this rug the whole time and I didn't know it? Man, I didn't see that coming."
“The whole time? I was wearing this rug the whole time and I didn’t know it? Man, I didn’t see that coming.”

Judging from the cards and letters we’ve received this week (Box 3-5-0, Boston Mass, 0hh-2-1-3-foour), you guys want more details on how to end your own nonfiction stories. Life doesn’t tie up loose ends Ellery Queen-style. No, that’s your job. But we’re going to help you mugs with a new series we call “assisted storycide.”

When inspiration shakes us by the lapels, we’ll post a case story featuring a specific type of ending—happy, sad, surprise, Phillips head, whatever—and then offer advice based on that story. Today’s lesson: “Leave them laughing.”

There’s nothing funny about people jumping in front of trains to end their tormented lives … usually. So when you play suicide for laughs, you should employ a somber tone. We opted for film noir for this story …

Strangeness on a Train

Megan and I were on the 7 a.m. Acela bound for New York when the engineer stomped on the brakes like they owed him money. We were miles from the next station … and just inches away from caboose-ing the 6:30 a.m. Northeast Regional.

From my window, I could see dozens of young commuters stepping off the train, sporting hand-tailored Zegnas and thousand-mile stares. I had to chuckle as these apprentices of the universe shuffled toward us, squinting like mole people in the bright sunlight. It looked like career day at Zombie U.

Minutes later, the dazed passengers from that train—there were over 100 of them—crammed into ours. We were packed tighter than a Japanese subway car, but our new guests stayed mum. Then this short gal with a blond pageboy starts sobbing hysterically about some mooch who mistimed his suicide leap. He got the job done but left a grisly vista for those seated on the left.

With the seal busted, some know-it-all started gabbing about the “protocol for such situations,” which included yellow-vested conductors barking through bull horns, a neatly choreographed “disembarkation” routine, and oddly enough, the distribution of free snack packs. The things you learn on the way to the Big City.

On the Acela back to DC that evening, we met a surprising number of people who had started their day on the Kevorkian Express. A productive day in the city and a few cold ones had knocked the zombie out of them and loosened the screws at the back of their tongues. They were dishing the gruesome details of the morning’s entertainment, and we were lapping it up with ladles.

But just as they were getting to the good part, there was crash that would have startled Buddy Rich and the train made an unscheduled jump on the tracks. Rather than die down, the crash got louder as it rumbled from the cow-catcher to the middle of the car behind us. I was hoping that the crackling thunder below us was a mangled Pathmark shopping cart, but the veterans among us knew better—another Choo Choo Charlie had taken the A train to the Promised Land.

As the train came to a stop, everyone froze. It was as quiet as a speakeasy just before the doors get kicked in. Then, before the conductor could grab his bull horn, two of the Ghost Train frequent flyers looked at each other and shouted, “Free Snack Packs!!”

And they were right.

 

The lessons:

“Begin with the end in mind.” Any good story goes through unexpected permutations as it’s being developed, which is a natural and good thing. But one thing should remain constant – the ending. As Yogi Berra wisely said, “If you don’t know where you’re going, you might not get there.”

Foreshadowing – It’s important to offer smalls references in the body of the story to the element(s) that are crucial to the end—the “free snack packs,” in this case.

Careful foreshadowing – It’s also risky. The foreshadowing has to be done in a way that does not blow the joke. In this case, we said “free snack packs” twice. But if we had gotten just a twinkle more than a wistful smile from our audience at the first mention of the goodies, the ending would have been shot.

Brevity is the soul of wit – The two most important elements of any story are the beginning and the end. The closer together you put these two critical elements, the better your story will be. As Kurt Vonnegut said, “Start as close to the end as possible.”

When you’re done, you’re done. Denouements are for novelists and overachievers. When you made your point, stop talking.

Stay stoic, my friend. If the story you’re telling gets the laughs you expect (or any that you’re not expecting), do not laugh. Or, as Mark Twain advised, “The teller does his best to conceal the fact that he even dimly suspects that there is anything funny about it.”

Posted in Content, How to tell a story, Humor, Storytelling | Leave a comment

They don’t call it the climax for nothing: How to satisfy your audience with a powerful ending

"Stop your worrying. I talked to David Chase and he said there is no chance in hell that he would end the show tha--"
“Stop your worryin’. I talked to Chase and he said there is no chance in hell that they would use that ridiculous scene to end th–”

As with rock concerts, fireworks displays, and full-body massages, you can’t have a great story without a great ending–or grand finale as the French would say, which oddly enough means “1,000 curtain-rod end-pieces” (origin unknown).

Think of the climax as your gift to the audience for all they’ve endured to get to the end of the story—whether plowing through page after page of Stephen King’s description of the hedge maze in The Shining, or simply maintaining your expectant smile and raised eyebrows as your roommate tells you anew about last night’s date.

They’ve done their part, so you’ve got to do yours. But how? Here are two resources that should prove helpful.

The first is a well-thought-out tutorial by Ylva Publishing. The post, entitled “Satisfying endings,” skillfully guides the reader from the climax—“the highest point of tension and action,” to the denouement, another French word which, roughly translated, means, “Thanks. I’ll call you.”

It’s worth a read … and maybe even a cigarette.

But the most instructive tutorial on the importance of a good ending is found here—a video of the 2010 Disclosure Conference at the National Press Club. It’s long (an hour and change), but the stories are riveting. And the endings are even better.

I can state with certainty that you will never encounter worse endings than these, which is amazing because these stories are the eye-witness accounts of aliens hovering over nuclear missile silos and deactivating the nukes, and they’re being told by the former Air Force officers who commanded those missile silos!

In their defense, these guys were probably as surprised that they were speaking at a national news briefing as they were about their close encounters with aliens. And possibly even more frightened by it. But even cutting them that slack, these are without a doubt the most horrendous endings on some of the most amazing stories of all time.

Take the time to watch video. Study each ending closely. And then do the opposite when it’s your turn to tell a story.

Posted in Audience, Climax, Ending, How to tell a story, Storytelling | Leave a comment

Down and Dirty Harry: Three lessons that will help you tell the hard truths

"Tell me about that 120-lb. woman one more time. Go ahead. Make my day."
“Tell me about that 120-lb. woman one more time. Go ahead. Make my day.”

I used to defend drinking and driving for a living.

I know what you’re thinking. Did he really just say that he defended drinking and driving for a living? Well, to tell you the truth, in all the excitement I used to ask that question a lot myself. But seeing that the drunk-driving arrest limit is .08 BAC and that a 120-lb. woman can drink two glasses of wine over a two-hour period without exceeding that limit, you’ve got to ask yourself one question: have you ever had a drink before driving? Well, have you … punk?

I rarely went full-Clint Eastwood when defending the legality of drinking a beer at a ballgame. But I did bring up the 120-lb. woman … ad nauseum. Because it is indeed a US DOT-certified fact that this proverbial 120-lb. woman could drink two six-ounce glasses of wine over a two-hour period and still not exceed the drunk driving arrest threshold. But it is also a fact that a 170-lb. man could drink more than four beers before he blew his way into a jail cell. And “more than four beers” sounds a lot worse than “a couple of glasses of wine.”

Now, I’m sure you’re wondering, “Why did he bring this up now? We were just starting to get along, and now … this.” Four reasons. Well, one reason and three lessons.

The reason: I want to show you how to deal with controversial issues so you can become a better communicator.

The lessons:

When conveying controversial, data-heavy information, wrap it in a vignette that people can relate to. People can see a 120-lb. woman having two glasses of wine at a restaurant, and the image doesn’t comport with their reflexive notion of a drunk driver. Mental dissonance like this often forces people to open the hood and have a quick look at their preconceived notions. Once they do, you’ve got yourself a conversation.

Tell and retell that vignette. You cannot overshare good information. But you have to try.

Passionately defend what you believe in. Or change jobs. For every organization with a quest, there is another organization opposed to it. And unless you’re shilling for deviants like NAMBLA (look it up), you have an obligation to develop compelling stories and convey them in the most creative ways you can to try to achieve your organization’s goals. If you’re just not that into it, find another job … like I did.

Posted in Candor, Hard truths, Quest, Storytelling, Uncategorized | 4 Comments

Short-Attention Span Theatrics

"Curious George? Really, that's what you want? What are you, like, four years old or something?"
“Curious George? Really? What are you, like, four years old or something?”

When I was 12, my father took the four of us kids to a book store near the University of Michigan, presumably so he could check that box on his “Things I must do with the kids so I can tell people I did it” list.

Michael, 13, who would someday become a doctor, chose Grey’s Anatomy. Mary Beth, almost 11—who devoured books like the “Planet Killer” on Star Trek devoured planets (season 2, episode 6)—found and hugged a copy of Gone with the Wind. Marnie, picked Stuart Little. She had no intention of reading it, but even at eight she knew that by spiffing up Dad’s I-bought-all-my-kids-books story she would take the lead in the perpetual race for his affection.

But I didn’t want a book.

“You’re getting a book.”

“I don’t want a book. Honest.”

“John, we’re not leaving this store until … you … select … a  book.”

Today, a kid who disliked reading as much as I did would be screened for dyslexia and ADD. But back then the diagnosis was simply “he’s just not a reader.” I was good at reading people, though, and I knew this book drive was less about my story-reading pleasure and more about Dad’s story-telling pleasure. He couldn’t check that box if I didn’t buy a book.

Out of frustration (and maybe a little spite), I chose The Big Book of Jokes and Riddles “recommended for kids from six to 99!” Hell, I fit the bill. And the book was made for me—it had lots of pictures, acres of white space, and short entries. The longest joke didn’t top 400 characters.

“That’s really the book you want?”

“Yep.”

Three seconds of his withering death stare and then … checkmate. I win.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but I was a pioneer in the short-attention-span movement that would sweep the globe by the time my own kids were old enough to play me as well as I played my dad.

That movement declared victory this week when Yahoo! paid a teenager $30 million for an app called Summly which shrinks news articles down to 400-character summaries, turning everyone’s phone into The Big E-Book of News and Commentary.

In his press statement announcing the deal (which, I feel compelled to point out, ran far longer than 400 characters), 17-year-old inventor Nick D’Aloisio said,  “Our vision is to simplify how we get information.”

Simplify? Really? Have you ever thumbed through yards of Dewey Decimal drawers in search of the alpha-numeric code that would lead you to a distant bookshelf where the book you were looking for used to be hidden before it was checked out by someone else? Ever spent an evening squinting at news articles on microfiche desperate to finish your homework before the library closed? Ever try to write a term paper using the Encyclopedia Britannica as your Internet?

I didn’t think so.

The only way it could get easier to get information today is if it were injected straight into our brain ports Matrix style.

As a storyteller, it’s important for you to understand how your audience consumes information. And these days, it’s in tiny, flashy, bites. Folks aren’t ordering Chateaubriand with Sauce Bernaise anymore. They want Pop Rocks and a large Coke–to go.

So give it to them. Spend some time crafting a compelling lede to hook them. Then edit your copy until it squeaks to keep them on the line. Then edit it again. And once you’ve made your point, stop writing.

 

Posted in Audience, brevity, Content, How to tell a story, Storytelling, Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Why storytellers are in the “Pink” when it comes to outsourcing

"An acquittal? COngratulations young man. You're on your way to getting your very own cubicle."
“An acquittal? Congratulations young man. You’re on your way to getting your very own cubicle.”

A long time ago (2008), a brilliant man (Daniel Pink) foretold a day when outsourcing will take its toll on lawyers, journalists, and other “intellectual” positions (his word, not mine), right here in the good ol’ U. S. of A.

Once again, Pink is spot on. The Washington Post reported today that “IT positions aren’t necessarily secure,” pointing out that more companies are outsourcing their IT services overseas.

As Mr. Pink explained:

“It’s relatively easy to outsource work that’s ‘routine’ — that is, a task you can reduce to a formula, a set of rules, or series of steps that produces a single correct answer.”

This is bad news for lawyers, journos, and techies, but good news for storytellers because, “Artistic, empathic work is harder to reduce to a simple formula. … Likewise for empathy. Understanding a customer, reading a sales prospect, leading a team are tasks pretty difficult to reduce to an algorithm.”

If you’re not yet following Daniel Pink, you should start. He’s insightful, entertaining, and prescient.

 

Posted in Daniel Pink, Empathy, Storytelling | Leave a comment