Over the course of the last year, I’ve been paying particular attention to the practical demands of brand storytelling–looking for ways to help my clients express a brand voice and execute compelling storytelling on their own. On a few recent assignments, we introduced a new tool for clients: storytelling architecture. What is it? At the most rudimentary level, it’s a flexible framework designed to help writers bring brand copy into voice. It does this by suggesting structural patterns that fit the brand. So, for example, if we had a client with a brand story rooted in personal experience, we might suggest one architectural pattern that uses personal anecdotes to humanize the brand and connect it to the bigger story.

The best example of story patterns in action is the MasterCard Priceless campaign. The storytelling architecture relies upon telling the story through purchases. Each purchase builds dramatic tension. The denouement occurs with the final element, which has no price. That example is heavily tied to the brand advertising, but there’s no reason the pattern could not extend to other brand touch points. In musical notation, that pattern could be expressed as A-A-A-B, where the A’s are the verses and the B is the chorus.

But that’s only one pattern example. We’ve also looked at genre. A genre is a meta-pattern. It is storytelling architecture that defines the conventions of the story to be told. Audiences like genres because genre sets expectations and creates a shared set of knowledge. For example, if you were to tell a vampire story, the audience would have a number of pre-conceived assumptions as a result of the genre. They would expect that the vampire needs blood to live. They would assume the vampire cannot be exposed to daylight. And they would probably assume that the vampire was averse to religious symbols. Certainly, many vampire stories have shunned these conventions, but that’s why we love vampire stories–to see how the new storyteller plans to deal with the genre. That’s why True Blood is gaining an audience.

Brands can take the same approach. Their storytelling architecture can rely upon genre to familiarize brand audiences with the bigger story, then the brand can choose which conventions of the genre to observe, and which to break. W Hotels has chosen a very specific genre in which to build its brand. It is linked to social currency. W defies some of the standard conventions of upscale hotel branding in order create its own unique storytelling approach. The architecture uses genre to structure the brand experience.

This work is ongoing, and requires a lot more illustrations than I have space to present. But the work in the subject area is proving helpful to clients and engaging for our team.

If you look deeper, Allstate has embraced the genre in other marketing communications. Print and direct mail pieces capture accidents at the moment of disaster, and finish with the response Allstate provides. Sadly, the website doesn’t continue the genre conventions, but Allstate is otherwise a great example of a brand that uses genre to guide the storytelling process.

What are the benefits of genre in branding?

First, genre sets audience expectations. When you consistently follow the conventions of the genre in your marketing communications, you seed the audience with the backbone of your story. Moviegoers expect certain things to happen based on the genre of the film they’re watching. If they go to watch a horror movie, they expect that somebody is going to die, probably early in the story and often in its plot. In a western, the audience generally expects an epic adventure against a harsh desert landscape with melodramatic examples of good and evil. The romantic comedy genre sets the expectation of two people falling in and out of love.

For the brand marketer, genre elevates your brand and improves recall and awareness. Consistent application of genre makes it easier for your customers to grasp the essence of your brand and sets their expectations about the values that make your brand unique.

Second, genre forces the marketer to make critical trade-offs that strengthen the brand positioning. If your brand uses the genre of “the daring enterprise”, as is often employed by IBM, the audience expects certain storytelling conventions. They expect to see a visionary leader attempting something that is deemed impossible. They expect to see setbacks that would crush lesser heroes. And they expect to see a creative solution to the setbacks. These are just a few of the conventions. Knowing the full set limits your options, and inspires the creativity that keeps the brand fresh. If you’re following the daring enterprise genre, you will probably rule out a marketing execution that dwells on romantic entanglement. It could be a story element, but it is an unlikely choice given that you have only seconds to convey your brand’s message and exude the brand narrative.

Finally, genres are among the best tools to develop your brand voice. The genre you select will affect the tonality of your communications. Film noir is dark, cynical and mysterious. Romantic comedy is light, witty and sometimes syrupy. Sports epics are often nostalgic, heroic and determined. Once you select a genre, and stick to it, your entire organization can rally around its aura. Because we’re all familiar with the many tried and true genres, we can all assess when the story is in or out of the genre’s voice. That is, perhaps, the greatest strength of genre-focused storytelling.

Whether you’re writing a resume, an email to a colleague or a post to your blog, your goal should be to tell your story in each snippet of prose. Sadly, too many interesting people short-change themselves when they write. They miss the opportunity to convey their character and the essence of their story. Here are five simple things you can do to bring out your brand narrative.

1. Use your own voice
   I have a friend who is one of the most affable, lovable guys you’ll ever meet. He’s the life of the party and a charming professional. People like being around him. Unfortunately, when he writes, he sounds like a droll actuary (apologies to any actuaries reading this). His sentences are filled with formal, stiff constructions. Reading something from him, you’d never guess what he was really like. There’s simply no good reason to communicate with anything other than your own voice. Make sure what you write sounds like you. Before hitting the send key, read your writing out loud. Is this how you would say what you want to say if the person were sitting in front of you?
2. Match characters to actions
   If you really want to be a storyteller, stop thinking of subject/verb agreement and start thinking about characters in actions. Great storytelling is revealed by action, not exposition. Instead of writing, “the report we wrote was transmitted by Mary on Thursday,” consider: “Mary sent you our report Thursday.” It’s more engaging to follow Mary doing something than it is to follow the track of the report.
3. Use dialog and quotes
   For some reason, business writers shy away from snippets of dialog. I wrote a research report last year that started with a direct quotation from one of the respondents: “The challenge is to develop entertainment that keeps people engaged…” It was a successful technique. The client told me people actually enjoyed reading my document — this from a thoroughly PowerPoint culture. Quotes and snippets of dialog are the hallmarks of good storytelling. Why not use them in your business writing?
4. Avoid metadiscourse
   In the theatre, actors generally avoid breaking the “fourth wall”. That’s the imaginary wall between the stage and the audience. Unless part of the play’s style, breaking the fourth wall interrupts the storytelling experience because it brings the audience back to reality. When you needlessly fill your writing with phrases such as “the purpose of this document is…” or “to summarize” or any other clause that discusses your discussion, you put distance between you and your reader. You also break the fourth wall. Rather than tell us what you’re going to tell us, just say it. Tell me a story. Don’t tell me how you intend to tell the story. It’s not to say that there isn’t occasional need for metadiscourse. Just make it the exception and not the norm in your writing.
5. Shorter. Clearer. Easier.
   Want to tell a really good story? Don’t let the words get in the way. Use short, declarative sentences. Make sure each of those sentences clearly expresses a thought. And make sure all of the thoughts string together in a way that makes it easy for the reader to follow your story. Remember, western audiences prefer linear storytelling. That means each sentence should logically flow into the next. At your best, your sentences should raise questions in the reader’s mind that the following sentences effortlessly answer. When done well, the reader gets to the end of your story with no unanswered questions.

Remember, when you’re not in the room, your writing is a remnant of your brand. Be known as a good storyteller, and make sure your stories reflect your unique way.

What is a strategist and what is strategy? There’s generally no consensus on the perfect definition of strategy, even from the gurus and pundits. Michael Porter will tell you that strategy is about choices–choosing upon a distinct set of activities that provide competitive advantage. Henry Mintzberg argues that strategy is about emerging patterns of decisions over time. The funny thing about strategy is that both perspectives are right and both somewhat miss the best part of strategy. Strategy is about storytelling. Story is strategy.

Imagine a tribal war camp somewhere in the desert hundreds of years ago. The warriors gather around a fire to discuss the next day’s plan of attack. The tribe probably did decide upon the activities they would emphasize in battle: surprise, a forward march, flanking positions. And undoubtedly, the perspective of the elder warriors and tribal chiefs influenced the priority activities. But the ideas had to be communicated and understood. Something had to link the activities together into a plan of action. That plan had to inspire. It had to have a common theme that helped warriors make decisions in the field when random circumstances forced split second decisions. The plan needed a logic, a linear flow of reasoning that convinced other men to put their lives on the line. In short, the plan had to be a story.

I get paid to review, critique and develop the strategies of some of the world’s biggest companies. Some are better than others, but the best have always been rooted in a good story. They may not ever surface on the New York Times Bestseller List, but these strategies read well. They read concisely. They read simply. Sometimes, they appear so simple and concise that you have to wonder why someone didn’t think of the strategy sooner. It’s a powerful experience to sit through a good strategy presentation. And when it’s really good, people relay the thinking around the water cooler the next day with most of the logic still intact.

Storytelling requires logic. A good story has a beginning, middle and an end. Each part of the story leads to the next part in an orderly fashion to deliver a perfectly natural final conclusion, while still delivering enough revealing twists and turns to keep the audience engaged. This is the art of the storyteller. It is also the art of the strategist.

Unfortunately, many companies have great strategic ideas in search of strategies. These companies have the data. They excel at performing certain activities. They have insights and perspective about what the data means and how the activities influence the data. But when it comes to stringing data, insights and activities together in a manner that communicates a plan of action, they fall short. They lack a story.

My favorite example of this concept is from General George S. Patton when he delivered his most famous speech to the 3rd Army on June 5, 1944. Patton had a masterful strategy. He knew that to win he had to keep his troops moving. There would be no entrenchment. On the eve D-Day, Patton told his troops of his plans in a rousing, famous speech known for its color, frankness, and imagery as much as its strategic insight. With his men fully engaged in his storytelling, Patton told them, “we’re not holding anything; we are advancing constantly, and we’re not interested in holding onto anything except the enemy. We’re going to hold onto him by the nose and kick him in the ass.”