Stories are powerful.
They are the emotional glue that connects the storyteller with his audience and, more importantly, the audience with the idea the storyteller is trying to convey.
Stories tap into not only our minds, but also our hearts. They’re why we cry at movies, even though we know they’re fiction. They’re why a homeless man could go from panhandling on a street cornerto working as the voice of Kraft in a matter of days.
When we were kids, stories were our lives. We’d incessantly ask our parents to read us storybook after storybook, even though we could literally recite the stories word for word. But that didn’t matter, because they connected us with our parents.
As we grew up, we lost our zeal for storytelling. We got our diplomas and put our picture frames in our cubicles, and we stopped telling stories. Visions of what could be were replaced with corporate jargon, features, awards (which were paid for), press releases, and bullet point-ridden PowerPoints. We lost perspective, forgetting about the audience and worrying just about our bottom lines.