There’s something about change that throws life into sharp relief. Endings and beginnings, in particular. Packing and moving. New ventures and big life milestones.
I’ve always been a little existential, but because the past 13 or so months have been particularly…dynamic…I’ve been thinking about what it all means more and more. Here’s a mere taste of the things that have happened in that short period of time:
- my partner and I moved out of our beautiful Toronto apartment and put everything we owned in storage
- we flew to Ghana, West Africa, where we spent six months working for an NGO
- when we came home we had no home, just a series of sublets and uncertainty—but also excitement because then…
- I launched a book
- I turned 30
- we celebrated Christmas with our families
- we moved across the country to Vancouver
- he started a wonderful new job, which has him travelling to far-flung places that are not always entirely predictable
- I started a business I love, and reconnected with a few very important people from my past
And then it was now.
It’s all been quite wonderful, but also a little intense. It’s made me increasingly and more acutely aware of the passing of time. I feel a hopeful melancholy in my bones, and I have a lot of questions.
You know, like, what’s it all for? We try and we love and we grow. We falter and fail and hope. But then, at some point…it ends. And then what?
And how can you live without knowing?
I’m not a religious person, although I understand the appeal. I’m not a scientist who finds meaning in the patterns of the natural world. I’m not a parent, not yet anyway, and can’t say if my dad was right when he told me that’s the secret. Living on through new life.
But I do know this. All of those questions fade when I’m reading a really wonderful book.
I know that sounds completely escapist on the surface, and it probably is, at least a little—stories allow us to escape our mundane or uninspiring lives, and vicariously experience things we would otherwise never get to. But there’s also more to it than that.
Stories allow us to connect with other people on an emotional level, without the risk of rejection or conflict, and without the commitment of real relationships. They’re a way to passively engage with our fellow man, to feel his triumphs and sorrows and understand his frustrations, which are similar but different to our own. Ultimately, they make us feel a little less alone.
Stories cut through the loneliness of living.
Although books, films, documentaries, and those destructive Netflix binges offer the most immersive narrative experiences, the premise holds true for all forms of storytelling, from TED talks to blog posts.
Which is why it’s so flipping brilliant when businesses find ways to build storytelling elements into their marketing. Brand stories allow your prospect to FEEL something about you and your business. Story-infused content has the potential to make your prospect feel, if only for a moment, understood, inspired, empathetic, excited, or a range of other emotions that hit them somewhere deep.
And that’s before they buy.
Because for your prospect, engaging further with your business is a way to actually become part of the story.
By buying a product or using a service, we not only buy into the story, but we actually join it. The story continues, with us enmeshed in the narrative and contributing to its meaning. And that can make us feel better, too.
Take my partner, for example. He loves Ben Sherman, the men’s clothing company. Ben Sherman was founded by a man named Ben Sherman in the U.K. back in the 1960s, around the time that the British “mod” subculture was starting to flourish. Skinny shirts and ties for cool cats who listened to great music (or played it) in style.
And today, the crisp, clean brand is for men who value quality, history, with just a dash of subculture.
My partner, born to British parents, grew up in a Toronto suburb listening to the Who and the Kinks with his dad. By wearing Ben Sherman, he plays homage to these roots while distinguishing himself as a stylish guy. And by helping the brand continue to flourish in 2014, he actually becomes part of its story.
And Ben Sherman becomes a small part of his.
As Seth Godin puts it, “People clump together into common worldviews. Your job is to find a previously undiscovered clump and frame a story for those people.”
I would add that the story has to be true and authentic (for ethical reasons, of course, but also to succeed), and that the clump doesn’t necessarily have to be entirely undiscovered.
As for me, I’m still wondering what it all means, and probably always will. But maybe asking those big questions is simply part of my own path.
So tell me, what do stories do for you? Is there a brand story that you especially connect with? I’d love it if you left a comment below.
Thanks, as always, for reading!