In which Little Tiger is born
And what we can learn about cohesive storytelling from selling men's razors
A year ago today, I became a first-time mom.
My son came a month early, which meant my husband had to scramble around Boston in a snowstorm to buy last-minute items like diapers and premie formula while I alternated haunting the NICU and calling insurance and daycares.
Even if my son had been born on his due date, I still wouldn’t have been prepared for another human to depend on me for everything from a clean butt to a full tummy. But at least we would have been prepared with a name! We’d decided to give my son the Chinese name 小虎, Little Tiger, in honor of what was supposed to have been his lunar birth year. Now, he’d been born into the Year of the Ox. We’d also have had more time to try to figure out our childcare situation. Thus far, the earliest opening any daycare, either home- or center-based, had been able to give me was October. A full-time nanny wasn’t within our means.
We stuck with the name Little Tiger. Little Ox just didn’t have the same ring. Also, as my husband kept intoning—possibly with more awe and fervor than when I presented him with his firstborn—the Bengals were playing in the Super Bowl for the first time since 1989! But daycare was still a problem. Thanks to Massachusetts’ amazing paid parental leave legislation, I had leave until May. But after that, I was looking at five months of no childcare.
I left my job in public media and struck out on my own. It was a win-win, I told myself optimistically. As my own boss, I could work during naps and the fifteen hours a week we had a nanny. Also, I knew exactly what I wanted to do: help social sector orgs tell better stories about the great work that they do.
Over the past fifteen years of working in the social sector, I’ve never gotten used to how awful mission-driven orgs are at storytelling. That’s a pretty existential problem, given that they purportedly exist to provide some social value proposition—or in other words, a story of the problem at hand, what they do about the problem, and how what they do will change things for the better. Or in social sector lingo: problem statement, solution, impact. Straightforward, yes?
Unfortunately, we in the social sector are terrible at straightforward. We are mired in a sense of grandiose challenge–that the problems we are tackling are nuanced, complex, and inextricably tied to a million other social problems. Like any other sector, we are also mired in jargon. Collective impact, community assets, amplify voices…ring any bells?
This hair-pulling combination of grandiosity and jargon means that when we gather in a conference room to develop stuff like mission statements and theories of change—basically, to articulate our story—we often get so distracted by what we think we should include and say, that we don’t consider whether what we end up saying makes sense.
for example…
The News Revenue Hub is a nonprofit doing really important work to support journalism “that improves lives—and fights misinformation.” One story they tell is that newsrooms need more money to continue operating (problem), the Hub provides tech and services to help them get that money (solution), and they’ve helped raise over $75 million (impact). Super compelling!
But that is just one of the stories the Hub tells. Another is about the need for newsrooms to build trust with their communities “through open and honest dialogue.” Yet another story is that paywalls are an equity issue, because they limit access to “reporting that can improve lives—especially those impacted by forces such as institutional racism.” If you’re counting, that’s three stories founded on three different problem statements. It can be hard for an audience to keep track of which story to focus on or how the three stories relate, which is a disservice to the Hub and its awesome mission.
I can empathize with how the Hub might have ended up with multiple stories. We’ve all been in strategy retreats where we’ve generated a solid theory of change and, just as we’re all starting to feel good about it, someone says: “Wait a minute. What about community strengths? We have to tie in how we leverage community strengths! What about dialogue? We’re always saying dialogue is important. What about equity? And empowerment? Those are core values, gotta loop those in! And we have to acknowledge systemic racism!”
Yet, when these terms are not intentionally defined and these themes are not intentionally woven together into one cohesive story arc, they distract from one another. In some instances, they can feel tacked on like an afterthought.
You know who is really good at storytelling? For-profit companies, particularly those who sell stuff rather than services. Maybe it’s because they have no grandiose ideas about what they’re selling. Maybe it’s because they’re not weighed down with ideas of responsibility and virtue. Maybe all this means that they just don’t overthink and overcomplicate the story.
Take this story from Gillette: “Shave with your manhood in mind. How to shave down there.” Arguably, not society’s most pressing issue. But the story’s great. Problem: It’s tricky to shave pubes. Solution: Buy Gillette’s special trimmer and moisturizer. Impact: “Manscaping [is] gentle and easy.” Super clear, cohesive, and catchy to boot!
long story short…
I started an org to help mission-driven orgs craft and live out compelling, cohesive, and impactful stories. Naturally, it’s named after the little guy with whom I spend a ton of time reading and telling stories. And on this first anniversary of his birth, I’m launching a Substack dedicated to organizational storytelling craft.
A few times each month, I’ll dive into real examples of storytelling, from both the social and corporate sectors. I’ll explore how these orgs construct story arcs and narrative voices. I’ll explore their word choices and use of data. I’ll explore how they balance explicit and implicit storytelling. Ultimately, I hope this newsletter will provoke thought about how the stuff we say can better serve the good work we do.
Want to read along? Subscribe below!
April
