Transcription
If you want to go viral, make more money, or change your life, it's actually so simple. I've generated more than $500 million in sales, and I've learned that the secret to winning in any situation is to tell a great story. So, this is the psychology of storytelling and the eight principles that'll change your life through stories.
First, we're starting with a concept I call predictive processing. Our brains are wired to find patterns and predict what is coming next. And if what you're saying or the story you're telling is too easy to predict, boredom sets in. Dan Pink has one of the most watched TED talks with 12 million views on YouTube and 32 million in the app. And that's because he opens his talk with this line: "I need to make a confession at the outset here. A little over 20 years ago, I did something that I regret. Something I'm not particularly proud of. Something that in many ways I wish no one would ever know." That line works because as a listener, you're locked in. The tension is unbearable because you're dying to know what decision this guy regrets. And here's what he says next: "In the late 1980s, in a moment of youthful indiscretion, I went to law school."
So, why does that work so well? That's what we call a hook. And it works because it creates uncertainty that you cannot predict. Your brain is asking like, "What's the confession? How bad is this?" And then it satisfies it with an unexpected twist. He reduced uncertainty instantly while also establishing tone, credibility, and even humor when he delivered on the hook. What most people get wrong when using hooks in storytelling is that the hook isn't actually about being sensational. It's about teasing the brain with a pattern to latch on to. One of my favorite hook structures is called a sensory anchor. This is something like starting your story with, "It all started with the smell of gasoline." Now, this is immediately intriguing because you can't predict what's next. So the test is simple. Read someone your first line. Then ask these two questions: Do you know what it's about? Are you intrigued to keep listening? This is how you master predictive processing of your listeners and can keep anyone hooked from the beginning.
Principle number two is one you've seen in almost any TV show or movie. It is the establishing shot principle. Have you ever wondered why the TV show Friends starts with like a scene of Central Perk and not right inside with the people? This is the establishing shot principle and it's everywhere. It's about establishing the world where the problem or the story is going to take place. Even comedians use this one principle to tell really captivating stories. So when Chris Rock wanted the crowd to understand what going to Mississippi was like for him, he used this hilarious analogy: "You know what Mississippi is like? You know, like when you go to the Caribbean, you know, like when you GO TO THE CARIBBEAN, YOU land and you get in that van, that drive, that scary ASS DRIVE from the airport to the resort, and you're looking out the window, YOU'RE LIKE, 'WHAT THE?'" What he did there was not just talk about what Mississippi was like. He used an analogy to create emotional context, social dynamics, and tension all at once.
In storytelling, the same principle applies. Before you can sell the solution, you need to establish the world where the problem lives. People's brains are constantly running this like orientation software in the background: "Where am I? What's happening? What should I focus on? Who should I focus on?" Until these questions are answered, they really can't fully engage. Studies show that when you don't orient people quickly, their comprehension drops by up to 40%. Now, think about that. You could lose almost half your message just because people are confused about the basics. So answer four unconscious questions really quickly: Where are we? Who's here? What's the vibe? What should I pay attention to? Test your establishing shot. Read only your opening lines to someone. Can they answer where? Who? Vibe. Focus. If not, you're making them work too hard.
Next up is principle three. You have to use illustrative words, which are also known as word pictures. I do this exercise at marketing conferences. So I get everyone in the audience to close their eyes and I'm on stage. I read them an email that I wrote for this video marketing company. Now the email talks about using video to collect leads, about turn styles for email addresses, and about their innovative approach. And this is the before version that I read to them. Then I ask the audience to open their eyes and I say, "Okay, what do you remember? What can you still see in your minds?" Almost without fail, they shout out "chicken." Not video marketing, not lead collection, chicken. Because the email mentioned a company at one point called the Santa Barbara Chicken Ranch. That's all their brain could see. The takeaway becomes for them, "I could go for some chicken," rather than, "We should use video to collect leads." That is the tyranny of word pictures. Video is too abstract. Leads too abstract. But chicken is visual. It's a concrete word picture. The concrete always beats the abstract, whether you want it to or not.
Now, here is why this works. Concrete, imaginable words get stored twice in your brain: once verbal code and once visual imagery. Abstract words, they only get stored once. So, that's dual coding. And it means word pictures are literally twice as memorable. So, use the close your eyes test. Have someone read your writing aloud to you while you close your eyes, or use a text-to-speech tool like Speechify to just read it back to you. When you hear it, what do you see in your mind's eye? If the answer is nothing, rewrite it. Include at least one element of color, pattern, texture, or shine and replace summary words systematically.
Principle number four is to pick your story structure. This is a storytelling concept called save the cat. It's the structure of movies that like Marvel films use. So you open with an image, then state the theme, include a catalyst, focus on a midpoint, then there's the big climax where all is lost, and then the finale. With this, your brain gets a dopamine hit at each expected milestone. For our agency clients, we use this for email sequences and launches. The first email might be the opening promise. Then the catalyst is the problem we focus on, perhaps an email, too. The midpoint twist is where we reveal the solution, and that all is lost moment shows what happens if they don't act. The finale, the offer. Now, this works subconsciously. The subscriber doesn't know they're in a save the cat structure, but their brain recognizes the rhythm. They experience anticipation rather than like pressure. But I mean, you don't have to use this one. There's also problem agitation solution for momentum. There's the hero's journey for transformation, or and but therefore for clarity. The key is using the right one for your goal. Every story structure is a promise to the brain about what's coming. Choose wrong and you create cognitive dissonance. Choose right and processing becomes effortless.
So first identify what you want the audience to feel. For satisfaction and rhythm, maybe you save the cat. 15 beats that hit at predictable moments the human brain craves. For urgency, momentum, use problem, agitation, solution. State the problem, make it worse, and then present the solution. For transformation, try the hero's journey. This is the classic adventure arc where the protagonist leaves their world and returns changed. Match your structure to what you want the audience to feel combined with what cognitive state they're in. So, the structure determines how your message gets processed.
Number five is something that completely flipped my approach to editing: Czechov's gun. I've audited thousands of pages where random details destroyed results. A SAS page mentioned its award-winning customer service in the homepage hero section. Sounds good, right? But the award was one from 2012 and two had nothing to do with what they were actually selling. So this violates Czechov's gun. The principle that says if you show a gun in act one, it has to be fired by act three. Every detail you emphasize creates a promise in your audience's brain that must be paid off. Research shows we remember unfinished tasks more vividly than completed ones. So when you introduce a detail that never pays off, you've actually created an open loop that breeds frustration, not engagement. But when you pay off every open loop you set up, your audience trusts that everything you show them matters and they lean in rather than tune out. They start looking for connections. They become active participants. This is why every detail is so important and really needs a distinct purpose. The discipline I teach is this: Read every line and ask, "What job does this line do? Does it build desire, handle an objection, provide proof, create urgency?" If you can't name its job, it's fired. When people finally grasp this, their results jump 20, even 40% just from editing alone. Not from adding more, but from making everything that remains on the page earn its keep.
Principle number six, you have got to create a villain. In our agency, we've named the villain the mega mean mouse. This comes from legendary copywriter Eugene Schwarz, who said, "You should not sell a better mouse trap. You should sell a bigger, scarier, hungrier mouse." Now, here's how this works in practice. Ask yourself, what is destroying my prospect's happiness or success? That's the villain. Let's say you're selling a CRM for lawyers. Okay? The villain isn't disorganization. The villain might be their current generic CRM. So, it's got no role controls, no encrypted file sharing, the wrong people see sensitive client data. This exposes the law firm to malpractice claims. And you can say like, "It's happening right now." Now, when you find that mega mean mouse, people stop seeing a vague annoyance, you know, that they can an enemy that they're kind of battling. They see a real enemy that they're actually battling. This works because people recognize themselves in it: the generic CRM, the sinking feeling, the failed solutions. You are making them feel seen. Studies show complex problems get remembered 70% better than simple ones. It's why we remember Darth Vader, but forget most other generic dark lords.
Build your mega mean mouse in four steps. First, stack consequences. For example, no time to cook becomes eating junk that makes you feel like crap, feeling guilty every night. Second, blame external forces. Delivery apps are too convenient. Groceries are too expensive. And recipes need 500 ingredients. Third, list dead solutions. Meal prep Sundays. Maybe blue apron boxes, simple recipes that took an hour. Fourth, explain why they failed. Too much time, too much planning, still too complicated. Now your prospect isn't fighting, "I should cook more." They're fighting an enemy with a track record, and they are ready for your solution.
Next is principle number seven, the sugar coating principle. So, I learned this the hard way teaching copywriting workshops. The first time I tried to explain conversion rate optimization formulas, I watched eyes glaze over in real time. The information was critical, was very useful, but delivery was killing retention. So I started embedding the formulas inside client drama stories. For example, "The CEO was furious about the 2% conversion rate until we applied this formula." Now suddenly everyone's, you know, madly taking notes. Same information, different cognitive packaging. When you pair necessary information with high attention stimuli like conflict, drama, humor, movement, even the brain maintains full budget allocation. This is why in journalism the saying goes, "If it bleeds, it leads." As in, the lead story is the goriest story you've got. The interesting elements maintain attention while the important information gets absorbed almost unconsciously. This is why, for example, you remember where you were on 9/11, but definitely not what you had for lunch last Tuesday. Identify your medicine, what they need to know, and pair it with sugar, which is what they want to experience. Wrap data in a story. Deliver process through personality. Embed history in conflict.
The last principle is the full circle ending to predictive processing. It's called bookending. The movie Shrek is my favorite example of bookending. You expect it to end a certain way and for the characters to get together, of course. But instead of Shrek turning into a prince at the end, which is the ending the audience expected, Fiona turns into an ogre. You see, bookending can feel a bit like a Hallmark movie, you know, be too predictable. But Shrek did bookending the right way. It's still the ending that the viewer wants to see, but with a twist. When you do bookending the right way, you are satisfying the audience but keeping them hooked by not making the ending too predictable, and this is called retrospective coherence. Looking back, the entire journey feels purposeful, and the tension from the story is always resolved at the end, but not in exactly the way that matches the usual patterns.
So when writing or telling your own stories, identify your transformation end points. Where does the story begin emotionally and where does it end? Plant something in your opening worth returning to. I mean like a specific image that can transform, a question that will be answered maybe differently, or a belief that will be reversed by the end. Test by removing your book end. If we removed the ending of Shrek where Fiona became an ogre, would the story feel complete? You want to make sure that your ending isn't decorative. It needs to be purposeful, needs to deliver on a promise, and make the audience feel satisfied without being too predictable.
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